


Coffee Cold

by problematic_mind



Series: Coffee Cold [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, And i need them to be happy together, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Soft baz owns my heart, They are so in love, i miss them, so I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 114,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_mind/pseuds/problematic_mind
Summary: Simon Snow, photographer, freckles and messy hair, is tired of being "the intern".Baz Pitch, 24 years old CEO, cold eyes and elegant suit, is new in town.Two worlds are about to collide.Are they ready for the impact?-OR: Simon works with Penny in a big office and Baz becomes his boss.-There will be a lot of fluff and fun, cause i just really want them to be happy.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Coffee Cold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106876
Comments: 187
Kudos: 225





	1. vanilla coffee and exciting news

SIMON

My internship sucks. It’s all a “do that”, “copy this document”, “stop drinking all that coffee”, “don’t eat scones near important docs”. I am not being paid enough for being denied food, period.

The only good side of this damned work is that I get to spend all my time with my best friend, Penny, who is also my roommate, because if I had to live on my own, I’d probably burn down my apartment. She has been with me since when we started school and she’s the only person I have on this planet, which may sound sad, but it really isn’t. I have always been alone, so it’s the only thing I have ever known, and I am kinda used to it by now, never met my parents nor any relatives (even if Penny's family basically adopted me).

“It’s not that bad, Simon. We still get to meet all those famous people.” Penny says, rolling her eyes at me.

“Which would be very cool,” I agree, giving her the paper cup of coffee I just bought, “if they actually let us talk with these famous people.”

“Maybe they would let you do that, if you were a better writer.”

“I am a graphic designer and a photographer, I don’t know anything about writing. I mean, hello? Have you ever talked to me for more than five minutes? I literally only know like 150 words and I just mix them when I speak, it’s not like I can be a writer.”

“You could if you tried,” she says simply. She always makes everything looks easy, as if it was enough to just work harder on things to make them happen... She opens the gigantic glass door of the skyscraper where we work and she lets me in before her.

All the people in the building are, per usual, all dressed up as if they were going to fashion week in Milan, but that’s okay, I guess. Not everyone just put on the first shirt they find in the wardrobe in the morning, as I do. The first few months, I felt a bit destabilized from all these adults stuff and everything, until Penny made me notice that I am (sadly) an adult too. She went like “University is over, Simon. Time to start living as adults!” and she’s never looked back since. She stopped wearing all her super-duper colourful clothes and she settled down on a more casual look. I am not saying that she always wears long skirts and suit, but she doesn’t wear clothes that makes her look like a 13 years old anymore (I kinda miss that look, to be honest, but I’ll never tell her).

I take a sip from my cup of coffee, which is more vanilla and milk than coffee, and we take the elevator till our floor, the 24th. “Do you think they’ll let us poor interns anywhere near the new exhibition?”

“Yeah, sure.” She laughs, “They’ll let us clean everything after the end of it.”

I snort, “Fuck, I really wanted to at least design the fliers. Being the new entries suck.”

“Don’t you say. Maybe when someone new arrives, we’ll receive an upgrade.”

“Hopefully, yes. I really, really hope that happens anytime soon.”

I let myself fall at my desk (a very little and very messy desk) and I put my head over my arms, ready to sleep for the next thirty minutes (or hours). “Wake me up when we can do something related to… I don’t know, anything we wasted five years in college for.”

“Don’t be that miserable, Simon.” She says, throwing me a pen. “Plus, you have work to do. You better get started.”

“Yes, mom.” I say and I open my laptop, but to be honest, I don’t even open the documents I’m working on, I end up googling anything that comes to my mind.

“Pss, Penny!” I call her some time later, “Did you know that the heart of a shrimp is located in its head?”

She coldly glances at me over her laptop, “What does it have to do with your work? Aren’t you supposed to design the sport pages of next week?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t that super cool?” I say, scrolling through some images, “Plus, I can’t really work without a proper amount of sleep and caffeine, you must know that at this point.”

“I almost have that article written and corrected, you better have the graphic part ready in ten!” she growls, “Or today you’ll have to cook dinner AND do the dishes.  
”  
“Fuck.” I mutter.

“Good morning to you to, sunshine. Watch your mouth, you are in a working place – even if that sounds super boring.” My boss snaps walking behind my desk, on her way to her office.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Fiona Pitch is almost always terrifying, even though she’s a badass, too. I am not surprised at all that she rules a company while being on her 30s. Everybody loves her, in this office, but everyone is also scared of her as well.

“I thought you lost our bet, Snow! The loser had to wear what the other wanted so why am I not seeing you wearing that horrendous jumper you won last year at the Christmas Party?”

“I… thought we were joking?” I mumble and she rolls her eyes.

“Do I look like someone who likes to joke?”

“Ehm…yes?”

“Well then, I most certainly am not joking while telling you I want to see you on that jumper this Monday!” she scoffs and she enters her office with an evil grin on her lips.

“I hate my life.” I snort and Penny laughs at me.

“What for? You have me as roommate, how could it be better?”

“First of all, with more coffee and way more sugar in my body.” I roll my eyes and I get up, grabbing my cup from the drawer. “D’you want anything?” She shakes her head without looking away from the article she’s writing. Nerd.

At the coffee machine, I find Ebb, who gives me a wide smile. “Someone didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Oh?” I say and I rub my eyes (that may still be brightly red), “Penny and I had an Avengers marathon, I went to bed like an hour before the alarm went off. I don’t even know how she manages to look that… fresh. I could probably fall asleep right now, if it weren’t for all the caffeine I am drinking.”

“Ah, to be young and without a single worry.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that I don’t have worries, but –“

“But you don’t.” she smiles again, “Not yet, just try lo live your life as it is, one day at a time. It isn’t that difficult, after all, isn’t it?”

Ebb is one of the only people in this office that I genuinely want to talk to, she really gets me and she has a way of saying things that always calm me down. She’s quite like a guardian for me, even though I have known her only for some months. She guides me through work and life without never complaining about it. If not a mother, definitely an angel.  
She is the reporter for our magazine, her field is nature, so she spends very little time in the office, because she is always busy traveling the country, following the news. She's kind of the Indiana Jones of our office, she doesn’t have the whip, but…

Penny and I, as interns, only covers little topics on the magazine, but we’ll eventually get some important articles some day. For now, we are stuck with Fashion (I mean, haven’t they seen the way I dress?) and Sports (as if I could ever go to a sport match of my own free will).

Not that Penny cares about these topics more than I do.

For our articles, i am both the graphic designer and the photographer and Penny is the writer, she also deals with interviews and anything that concerns writing words on a blank page (i'd probably make a mess out of it).

Back at my desk, I decide to do at least the minimum and call it a day. I’ll catch up on Monday, after a whole weekend of sleeping and recharging my batteries, I promise.

That noon, right before the end of the working day, Fiona gets out of her office with a weird expression on her face. “Okay, everyone!” she screams and we all stop doing (or not doing, in my case) our work to look at her.

“Exciting news! My nephew will be working with us from Monday on. He’ll cover the vacant charge on vice-president, so he’ll be right after me. Sorry, Paul,” she adds, looking at one of my elder co-workers, “the commission decided that we needed fresh, young folks around here.”

(As if they let young, fresh people do anything but fashion and sport articles that no one cares about.)

“That’s all.” She claps her hand, “Why don’t we just go home? It’s almost time to go, anyways. Good weekend, everyone!”

I let go a shaky, tired breath. “Let’s go, then. I did way too much today.” I laugh, looking at the poor graphic page I put together, that I’ll delete and recreate more decently on Monday.

“You seem very tired, just maybe not due to work, you idiot.” She scoffs, “No more Marvel Movies for the poor little Simon who can’t stay awake till bedtime or he’ll be a zombie the day after.”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” I roll my eyes.

“Hey, kids, I have a proposal you won’t be able to refuse and I am not just saying that cause I am your boss and you must do everything I say,” Fiona smirks at us, leaning on Penny’s desk, “ as my nephew is new in town, would you mind taking him around the city, making him meet your fellows…?”

“As if we don’t spend all our free time watching TV and have other friends?” penny asks, looking at me completely lost.

“Yes, that! I knew I could count on you two!” she smiles and starts walking away, “And don’t forget about the sweater, Simon.”

That fucking sweater.

“Did you… just agreed to that?” I mumble, pointing at Fiona.

“I did not.” She snorts, closing a little bit too violently her laptop. She almost never wants to make new friends and meet new people. 

“Guess we don’t have much choice anyway. Probably he is not the new entry we were hoping for, to be that young yet that rich, must means he is an insufferable twat.”

“Cheers, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my first rodeo, but my first fic in english... So please, be kind, it's not my first language!  
> If you could let me know what you think about it, it would mean a lot to me :)  
> Hope y'all have a great day x


	2. itchy sweater and great ideas

SIMON  
“This… thing itches. A lot.” I complain on the elevator, scratching my torso with my hands. Fucking sweater. As if Monday morning weren’t the worst thing ever on their own.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t bet on who can drink more coffee with your boss.” Penny scoffs, “Besides, it’s kinda cute.”

It most surely isn’t. It’s red and it has a giant deer on the front, which would be okay, if it didn’t have a luminous nose and many sparkling pompoms sewed all over it. I should not be allowed to own anything like this, first of all because I’d probably wear it on a daily basis if it was more comfortable. I mean, I’ve probably wore worst things in my life, starting with our high school uniform. Nothing will ever be as ugly as that.

“I am still not sure on how she cheated.” I snort, exiting the elevator. “I definitely am the champion here, no one can drink more coffee than me.”

Penny laughs, grabbing my arm, “That Vanilla Latte you drink is anything but coffee, Simon. If you were a champion in eating anything, it would probably be scones.”

“That too.”

The office is unusually quiet, there are no people sitting on their desks eating breakfast, no one half asleep on his chair. They are just… working, which is definitely weird for 8 am.

Pitch offices aren’t quite normal, they are all designed to stimulate creativity and concentration, at least it’s what they told me on my first day. All I could see, were swings hanging from the roof and colourful couches, giant desks with weird chairs, the most beautiful snacks buffet I had ever seen in my entire life (my favourite part, because there are always scones, like, everyday) and endless windows. Almost every wall is made of glass, besides the two rooms that serve as Director and Co-Director offices that have wooden walls.

“What’s happening here?” I murmur to Penny, scanning the room with curiosity.

She sits at her desk, already opening her laptop and getting ready to work (i have no clue how she manages to be this active in the morning), “Can’t you remember anything at all? Today arrives Fiona’s nephew, the new boss.”

“Well, not properly the boss… that would be Fiona.” I punctuate and she ignores me. “Is he that terrifying that everyone has to pretend to be working?”

“Don’t know about you, but I’d rather not find out on his first day. Your lazy ass and you better do your job!” she orders, and I finish my coffee. I have the feeling that this will be a long week.

I wonder if he is already there, arrived unseen, or if he’ll arrive at the time he wants to (as a twat would do). Fiona’s office door is closed, so I have no idea what’s going on in there.

By the time I’ve eaten two scones, drank another coffee and finished half of the pages I had to design, nothing has changed: everyone is still quiet, and I haven’t seen any new face. Maybe he’ll arrive another day, after all.

“Do you think he’ll come?” I ask, throwing my rubber at Penny to catch her attention.

“Maybe he’s already in there, working without bothering his colleagues, as you should do too.” She replies with a tiny, tiny smile. Penny loves this work so much, even though she wants to write about more important topics (because that’s how she is, duty before everything else).

“You aren’t my colleague; you are my partner in crime.” I smile back, “plus, I think that he won’t show up. He is who-knows-where doing who-knows-what, you can’t trust those rich kids. He just got this work because he is a Pitch, not because he deserves it.”

“How would you possibly know?” she rolls her eyes at me.

“I do know –“

In that moment, both the doors of the entry fly open and Mr. Pitch does his entrance in the office.

What a drama queen. Couldn’t he just open them like a normal person?

He is a tall, skinny guy, pretty much my age; his long black hair is styled back and he wears a suit and tie as dark as the night (probably more expensive than my whole wardrobe)(or house). I know that he is Fiona’s nephew, not because he has the same dark skin nor the same grey eyes (which he has, anyway), but because he has the same exact smirk on his face.

Suddenly, my embarrassing sweater is too much to bear.

“Good morning.” He says generally to room, and makes a show of reaching his aunt’s office walking as slow as he can, his chin up and his back straight. He has a big suitcase with him, as if he just came here from an airport, and his clothes are a little bit wrinkled.

I feel Penny glancing up at me, but I can’t tear my eyes off of him. He has the highest cheekbones I have ever seen, if I touched them, I’d probably cut my fingers (why do I want to do it then?)

He disappears into Fiona’s office, without even knocking before entering. We hear a muffled “Baz, you numpty, you are late!” from Fiona, before the door closes behind him and shut us out from the rest of the conversation (not that anyone of us was listening)(fine, we were).

“Can you please stop blushing? You are making me nervous.” Penny tells me, coking an eyebrow.

“I am not nervous,” I cough, then I correct myself, “nor blushing.” I rub my cheek with my hand, and I feel it a little bit warmer than usual, nothing to worry about (as Ebb would say).

“Yeah, keep telling that to yourself.” She laughs, “What do we think about him, anyway?”

“Why would I think about him?” I mumble, my eyes widen in confusion. If I weren’t blushing before, I probably am doing it now.

“Because he is your new boss, why else?” she shakes her head, trying not to lose her chill.

“Right… I think that he is probably a prick, just think of how he paraded to get to his office.” I snort, getting back to my work.

“I’m just saying that with a body like that, I would probably do the same.” She shrugs, typing on her keyboard. “Or if I had clothes that expensive.”

“Yeah, we definitely should write our next fashion article about him.” I joke, rolling my eyes. But she isn’t wrong about his body, though. He has the longest legs in the country, without a doubt.

“Finally a good idea, Simon!” she yells a little bit too loud and i see people turning and staring at us, “How fashion and work should mix together. That would be an amazing article, don’t you think?”

“No. No no no, Penny. I was joking, we aren’t writing about him, nor interviewing him and I surely won’t photograph him! Not in a million years.” I say throwing my hands at the ceiling. “I won’t do that.”

“But that is a fantastic article and you wouldn’t even have to interview him; I would do that. You’d just have to take some photos and arrange them on the page.”

“I’d have to photograph him. How can’t you see in how many ways that would be awkward?” I say, rubbing my eyes, “No.”

“Please, Simon. Just imagine, if we proposed it to Fiona she’d probably say yes, because it’s about her nephew and we’d get to choose how to create the article from zero and not starting from someone else’s idea as usual, c’mon. Don’t you want that? It would be our first independent article and if it goes well, they’d let us write what we want.” She’s looking at me with big, puppy eyes. “That’s our chance to prove we can do more than write the scores of football matches.”

I take a deep breath, I can’t believe the words that are escaping my mouth, but I can’t tell her no when she’s that excited about something. “Fine, okay.”

“Are we really doing this?” she giggles, clapping her hands.

“Yes, but I won’t photograph him naked.” I warn her and she nods. The thought of seeing him naked sends a weird feeling down my body, but I do my best to ignore it. It's probably just jealousy because i don't have a body like that.

“You are the best, Simon. Thanks.” She smiles at me.

“You’ll have to make me that cake tonight, the one with chocolate that your mom taught you.”

“Deal.” She says and like that she’s back to typing at her laptop, probably already doing some researches about our new idea.

I pray that the article won’t be as awkward as it sounds now.

Right before going home, I spill some of my coffee on my jeans, because I will never ever have a normal, happy day without some drama.

“Fuck.” I swear, getting up from my chair. “Fuck me, dammit.” At least it wasn’t still hot, let’s look at the good side of things.

“I was quite worried that you hadn’t yet made a single mess today, I thought apocalypse was near. But we are safe for now, I suppose.” Penny mocks me, offering me some tissues.

“You can go home, you don’t have to wait for me, or you can go buy the groceries, that would be even better.” I tell her, ignoring her comment. I swear all the way to the bathroom, trying to not let the wet jeans stick to my skin.

It takes me quite some time, but I eventually get it clean and dry using the hand dryer on the wall. I check out my reflection in the mirror, but it would’ve been better if I hadn’t. My hair is messier than usual and with this sweater (and my hair) I look like a Weasley.

I won’t bet anything with Fiona ever again.

I turn to get out, when someone opens the door (and almost smash it in my face) and I find myself right in front of Mr. Pitch.

“Oh,” he says cocking an eyebrow, “I thought the office was empty by now.”

“Yeah, I just had to… You know…” I mumble, and I curse myself for being such an idiot, “I’m Simon Snow, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pitch.” I offer him my hand, but he just stares at it with a grin on his face.

“Adorable.” He says, with a voice so low that sends goosebumps down my back. I impose myself not to shiver and I take back my hand, feeling more like an idiot than when I first arrived in the bathroom with half of my coffee on my jeans. I try so hard to ignore the luminous red nose on my jumper, focusing my eyes on him instead.

What an insufferable twat. (A very beautiful twat, though.)

“Yeah, I know, everybody always tells me that, it's part of my charm.” I smirk back.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, looking at me as if he is not used to people answering him like that (he probably isn’t) and I am some sort of exotic creature. “Do they?”

“Yes.” No.

“What an interesting choice of wardrobe,” he adds, pointing at my sweater, “is it supposed to be some kind of self-expression? Are you trying to prove something or are you just a little bit embarrassing?”

“I think I am trying to prove it’s none of your business,” I say and I mentally high five myself for this answer. Sometimes I can be sassy too, evidently.

“Do you realise that I am, in fact, your boss?” he snaps but he's calm, his eyebrows going even more up on his forehead. In his eyes there is a spark of something I can’t quite identify.

“Yes, sir, sorry.” I mutter. Every bit of sassiness disappeared from my body (maybe i just have enough sass to get myslef into troubles, but not enough to get myself out of them as well). “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go. Good evening, Mr. Pitch.”

When I’m far enough, I let out a shaky breath. I can’t lose my job; I hope he isn’t too pissed at me. Stupid me.

“Snow?” a voice says behind me and I turn around to see him, standing on the door with his shoulder against it, his legs slightly crossed.

“Yes?” I mutter. Please, please, don’t fire me.

“Even though you have to learn where your place is,” he says, rolling his eyes, and my blood turns cold, “it’s just Baz. I hate being called Mr. Pitch.”

“Baz.” I repeat, half in disbelief, half in shock. “And I’m not Snow, just Simon.”

“Whatever, Snow.” He shrugs and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me standing there as an idiot.

I don’t know how I am supposed to do a whole photoshoot with this prick, according to Penny. He’ll kill me or I’ll kill him, there is no way this is ending differently than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know if this story is at least a tiny bit good, i just really missed writing fics and i wanted to try and write one in english, but who knows! 
> 
> Take care x


	3. teasing glances and holy Diner

SIMON  
“You mean that you actually talked to him? Like you said a bunch of words to him and he replied?” Penny asks, taking a popcorn from the bowl between us on the couch.

“Yes, Penny. I already told you like three times.” I roll my eyes, wrapping the plaid more tightly around me, not that I am cold, is just that I like the warm feeling, it’s like a wearable hug and I don’t receive many proper hugs, so…

“But just to be clear, you didn’t ask him if he wanted to be part of our project about fashion and work, didn’t you?”

I pause the movie we are watching (Order of the Phoenix), pissed off. “No, obviously I did not. He was being a prick, making fun of my sweater. I didn’t want to be nice to him, nor talk to him in general. Now can you please focus on the Telly? They are about to recruit for Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Everyone was mocking your sweater, _you_ first of all.” She scoffs, “Don’t make such a deal out of it. We need to ask him to cooperate with us and since you are the one allowed to call him Baz, it’s you who has to do it.” She says with an evil grin, “But since in this house we are a democracy, let’s vote.”

“This method isn’t working, Penny. We already decided that it’s not fair that your vote is worth for two and mine for one.” I throw a popcorn at her and she laughs.

“Fine, but I think that you should be the one to do it… Wait.” She adds, getting up and disappearing into her room. When she comes back, she carries with her her whiteboard. “Let’s see what we know about this article.”

“Tell me again... Why do we always have to do this?”

“Because it helps you visualize ideas. Stop complaining, start being more helpful.” She says, giving me a pen.

By the end of the movie (because Penny insisted that I already know how it ends, so I could watch it while doing other things), the whiteboard looks like this:

THINGS WE KNOW ABOUT BAZ (and right next to it, with my handwriting MR. PITCH)(because if he calls me Snow, I’ll call him Mr. Pitch):  
\- HE IS SUPER ELEGANT (“No, Simon, we won’t write that he is a snob)  
\- AND HANDSOME (“Shut up, Penny. Don't you have eyes? That’s just a matter of fact.”)  
\- THE BOSS’ NEPHEW  
\- SIMON CAN CALL HIM BAZ (“You probably can do it too, Penny. It’s just that I was the first person he talked to, so he told me first.”)

THINGS WE DON’T KNOW ABOUT HIM:  
\- HAS HE STUDIED FOR THIS WORK? (“Simon you have no idea if he really got the job because of his blood”)  
\- WOULD HE WORK WITH US? (“Probably not, Penny.”)(“Stop crying for Sirius death, you already knew it was gonna happen, Simon.”)

“It’s not much, but it will do for now.” I yawn, “Can we please stop talking about him and go to sleep?”

That night I definitely don’t dream about elegant suit and tie or long dark hair.

-

“Okay guys, the exhibition is this Friday night. Everything has to be ready for Thursday 11 am, when we have the final meeting to make sure everything’s in place.” Fiona announces and everyone nods.

Every few months, we publish a special magazine about art, each time with a different main theme and we organize a little exhibition with the works of art we wrote about. It’s always very thrilling, cause these exhibits are very trendy and there are many famous people who make their appearances, even though Penny and I always only see them at the entrance, taking their invitations.

We are in the meeting room of the office, Fiona’s sitting head of the (very big) table, right at her left there is Baz and then all our elder colleagues, we (poor) internes always sit on a tiny couch in the corner of the room; I don’t even know why they let us take part on meetings, as we don’t even say anything at all.

“Baz picked who is going to cover the missing charges at the exhibit, some have already been arranged, some not yet.” Fiona says, pointing at her left. He’s studying us, eyebrows furrowed, and when his eyes meet mines, the tiniest smile on history appears on his face (I am not sure if it’s actually there or if I’m just imagining it).

Baz handles some papers to the people around him, listing names and charges one after one; he’s kinda intimidating, so people just accept without even try to argue.

It’s true that everyone here is scared of Fiona, but in a good way; I mean, we are aware we can talk to her about any issue and she’ll listen to us, we can even joke with her and it’s fine.

Baz, on the other hand, is just terrifying; maybe it’s because he is so young yet so cold, maybe it’s the way he stands amongst other people. He’s the taller one in the room, and the way he lifts his chin with pride when he talks, the way his hair is always styled perfectly, his expensive clothes that suit him as if they were sewed directly on him, just make him look more intimidating.

Baz is like ice, when he is in the room, everything tends to freeze. 

It looks like nothing can reach him. He is untouchable, unbreakable.

“Interns, you’ll be in charge of letting people in at the exhibit if they have an invitation. Can I trust you with that or is it too much?” he asks us with an evil grin, but he is openly staring at me. Penny pushes me a little with her elbow, urging me to answer.

Fuck off, I think. “Sure.” I say.

“Obviously, Christmas sweaters are forbidden. Please, dress properly.” He adds and I think I might punch him in the face. I stare at him with anger and Fiona laughs at us.

“Don’t terrorize my interns.” She admonishes him, but her voice is amused by the whole situation.

“I am not,” Baz grins at her, turning his face from me, “just making sure everyone is on point.”

I hope he goes away soon enough; I don’t think I can bear him and his three-piece suits for much longer. And it’s only day two.

“Good, then I think we are done here. Keep up the good work, everyone!” she dismisses us.

-

“It’s official, Simon.” Penny says, stealing a fry from my plate. We are at our favourite Diner, that is just two blocks away from our office, so we don’t have to walk too much to get here, but far enough we don’t risk meeting any of our co-workers eating here too.

“What is?” I ask, chewing my burger. Penny hasn’t talked much since we left the office and it’s making me nervous, cause usually it’s a miracle if she shuts up for five minutes consecutively. It’s almost as if I can hear the gears of her brain spinning (but for now I am too hungry, I might ask her later)(she’ll probably tell me anyway).

“That it’s you who has to ask Mr. Pitch about our article. He definitely likes you; you can’t deny it.” She says, as if it’s the most obvious thing on Earth.

“He doesn’t like me,” I cough in embarrassment, “he’s just taking his revenge for how I answered to him last night, he just wants to humiliate me in front of the whole office.”

“If you say so,” she rolls her eyes, “but I definitely think you should ask him, you’re the one who has – for how tiny it may be – a connection with him.”

“I don’t have anything with him, you are saying so just so you don’t have to be the one doing it.” I try do dismiss the topic, but she doesn’t see any reason.

“Well, then, we’ll just keep writing about football match. You love football, don’t you, Simon?” she sighs, with fake resignation.

“I hate football, if I have to assist another football game, I’ll probably die of boredom.” I say, finishing my burger. (it was quite too small; I am still a little bit hungry)(I shall probably order a slice of cake at least).

“Then, it’s official. Perfect!” she says, clapping her hands with joy. “So, you shall clean your face from crumbs,” she gives me a tissue and I wipe my mouth and cheeks, “good. Now you shall ask him, he is sitting right next to the window!”

“What?!” I gasp, turning around.

And I see him there, sitting at his table, reading a book on his own. He looks like he’s posing for a photoshoot, with his stupid perfect hair and his branded grey suit. I wouldn’t be surprised if cameras and photographers popped out of nowhere, at least it would justify all that… beauty. (it seems like a waist not to take a picture of that beautiful face)(stop thinking like a photographer, Simon).

“That’s your chance, our chance. Pick it!” she says with her thumb up. As if I would go swimming in a pool with a shark just because she’s looking at me like that, all hope and expectations.

“I am not going there, he’s eating or waiting for someone, plus this is like our holy Diner, what does he think he is doing, showing up here as if this place wasn’t ours?!”

“How would he know that? He is new in town, I highly doubt he has done it on purpose.” She rolls her eyes, peeking at him.

I feel something in my belly that alarmingly seems like panic.

“I am sure he is trying to ruin my life for how I behaved last night. I know I shouldn’t have treated him like that, but it’s not a reason to start plotting against me! He probably followed us or something.”

Penny snorts not agreeing with me, “Then this is your chance to beg his pardon and end this… thing.”

“Good, alright. I can do that. Okay.” I say, taking deep breaths. I stand up, putting on my jacket.

“It’s on me today, anyway. Go while I’m paying the bill, we meet outside when you are done.” She grins and nods with her head. As soon as I do the first step toward Baz, she adds, “while you are there you might as well ask for the article!”

Traitor.

I feel my hands getting sweaty and I push them in my pockets (in this way, I won’t be tempted to slap Baz on his stupid gorgeous face if he starts teasing me).

“Uhm, hello.” I mutter when I am near enough.

“Snow,” he doesn’t even pull his eyes off of his book, and I start wondering if he isn’t some sort of mystical creature with super senses, like a vampire or something, and he already knew I was there. “I didn’t know you worked as a waiter, too. Do we pay you this little?”

I feel very unpolite words coming to my lips, but I swallow them down, trying not to ruin my situation more. “No, I mean yes, you do pay me little, but I am not a waiter, I was eating lunch.” Why am I such an idiot? Maybe insulting him was preferable than belittle myself.

“I’ll let my aunt knows what you think of your salary, thanks for telling me your complaints.” He finally looks at me with those grey eyes and I feel something move in me. I am almost sure he’s being a sarcastic prick and I start feeling a little bit angry, but I can manage that. I may have a bad temper, but it’s not that bad.

Suddenly, the idea of begging for his pardon is off the plate, so I might as well skip to the second point.

“Penny and I wanted to write an article about fashion and work and how they shall mix together on a daily basis. Something about how the way we look in our working place reflects on how our co-workers see us – “

“That’s a super and very original idea, indeed,” he cuts me off and I am not sure if he is being sarcastic again or not, “but even a not so bright person like you must have noted that this is not an office and I am eating lunch. Not the right time to have ideas, isn't it?”

This man can make me go out of my mind in ten seconds, I think I might hate him.

“Okay, enjoy your lunch, Mr. Pitch.” I say in the most formal tone I can manage. I'd really just like to yell at him.

“Baz,” he corrects me, rolling his eyes. “Besides, shall we meet in my office tomorrow morning to discuss about this idea of yours?”

This catches me off guard, so I mumble in response, “What? I mean, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“Now go, I’m busy.” He dismisses me and he focuses on is book again.

I am so confused by what just happened that the thought of going away takes a few seconds to actually reach my feet.

I meet Penny outside with a little smile on my lips, talking to him might have been worth not ordering that cake, if he'll listen to our idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you've seen Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (which I highly recommend), but Zoey's office is exactly how i imagine the office in this fic! lol 
> 
> Can't wait to publish the exhibit chapter! Almost there :)
> 
> If you want to complain about how you miss Simon and Baz, i'm @lovi-ngbooks on tumblr! 
> 
> Take care x


	4. inner artist and goosebumps

SIMON

“So, you’ve understood everything, haven’t you?” Penny asks, with a little bit of anxiety in her voice. She can’t keep quiet today and she’s making me nervous, too worried that I’ll spoil our chance because of my chance (I may)(I don’ think I will, though). “Have you re-read the notes I gave you?”

“For the twenty-fourth time in the last ten minutes: yes, I did.” I say, rolling my eyes and I get up from my chair, the office is a little more empty than usual, because many reporters are out at the moment, so it’s quiet and it’s not good for my anxiety. It feels like something is wrong. “Take it easy, Penny.” 

“I can’t take it easy, we only got one chance and we must make the best out of it. Please, don’t get angry with him when you are in there, he is just teasing, nothing more.” She prays me, adjusting the collar of my shirt. She didn’t let me wear my usual t-shirts today, she wanted me to look professional and she forced me into one of my elegant shirts, the ones I usually wear at the exhibits. 

“Can’t make promises,” I shrug and a little spark of sadness shine in her eyes, so I give her a little, reassuring smile. “but I’ll try my best.” 

“Thank you.” She smiles back, sitting back at her desk. 

“But I still don’t understand why you can’t come with me, the idea was our, not mine alone.” I feel my hands shaking a little bit, I am not good at speeches (or talking at all) and I don’t really wanna be locked in a room alone with Baz Pitch. 

“Because,” she spells the words very slowly, “he wants to talk to you.” 

“Well and whose fault is that? It’s you who keeps making me talk to him.” I snap, but at this point I got used to it, so it doesn’t even bother me anymore.

Her only answer is, “You are running late.” And I am, so I just leave her be. 

Baz’s office door is massive, in thick dark wood. I can’t hear anything coming from inside, but I know Baz is in there because I saw him arrive this morning. I take a shaky, deep breath before knocking slightly. 

His voice is muffled, but unmistakable, “Come in, Snow.” Those vampire senses again, fuck. 

I get in his office, struggling not to stumble on my own feet, which refuse to move as I want them to. “How did you know it was me?”

“You were the only person I had an appointment with today.” He grins at me like I am the biggest idiot on planet Earth; he is sitting at a big wooden desk, that is pretty much the size of mine and Penny’s together, with a big computer on it and a few photos, but I can only see the back of them. Are those pics of his girlfriend? The room is a bit different than how I imagined it; there are two black couches along the walls and three colourful beanbags, behind the desk there is a fantastic view of the city and pinned above one of the sofa there is a big painting of a forest with an old villa in the middle. 

“Uh, okay.” I sit on one of the two chairs in front of him. I try to repeat the speech Penny wrote for me in my mind, but I feel the words fleeing away. 

“Besides, it has been brought to my attention that everyone in this office is frightened by me, so if they need anything, they just go to Fiona. It was an easy guess.” He adds, cocking an eyebrow. I think that he is not bothered at all about people being scared of him, I’d rather say he couldn’t care less. 

“I wonder why.” I whisper and his eyebrow goes even higher on his forehead. “What did you just say? I didn’t get it.”

I feel my cheeks turn red, “Nothing, I just – I was…” 

“Use you words, Snow.” What an insufferable twat. 

“Simon.” I correct him automatically, even if I think he will never call me by my proper name. “I said it was very kind of you to listen to our idea.” 

“Sure.” He snorts. He looks bored, I probably already messed up. (Penny will kill me)(not if Baz kills me first for saying something mean). “So, what’s that about?”

I clear my throat, that’s Penny’s speech’s moment. “Penny’s and mine field are Fashion and Sports for the moment, but I think it’s time that we both show our worth to Fiona and to – well, you. We can do much more of what we are doing now, me as a photographer and Penny as a writer. We had an idea, that with a little bit of luck can demonstrate you that we are ready for next level. We want to write about how you can express your style at work still looking professional. We often think that work comes above everything else and that it eclipses our personality, trapping us in fashion standards such as long black skirt for women and white shirt for men, but this is not necessarily true. We want to show the world how you can be yourself at work, without losing your colleagues and boss’ approval based on the way you look. That’s made possible by spreading the fact that there are already people doing it, like – “ 

“Like you?” he snorts, staring at my jeans that are not so fashionable. 

I swallow a little bit of my pride before answering, “Not me… You.”

“Me as me, Baz Pitch?” he says, I can see clear confusion through his eyes. His deep, grey eyes. That are chained to mine and I feel trapped. 

“Yes.” I nod, “We want to write this article about you, if you’ll let us. It won’t be anything particularly tough for you, just some shots and an interview and we’ll take care of the rest.” 

He bites his lip, staring at me fondly. “You mean you’ll be photographing me?”

The thought sends a stroke of goosebumps down my back, but I force myself not to shiver. I still have some dignity, even if he saw me in that damn Christmas sweater. “Er, yeah.” 

“Then no.” he snaps, and he gets up from his chair, he turns from me and start looking out of the window, ignoring me. I don’t really know if I’ve been dismissed, but I can’t give up now. 

“Oh, c'mon. Please. We can make something great out of this project. Why not? It’s not as if you won't be freaking hot in the photographs and it would take only a few hours of your time, you’ll just have to sit there and answer some questions and that’s it. Also, you'll be under a good light with the press.” I talk nonsense, trying to convince him. I see his shoulders tense, but maybe I’m just imagining it. “It’ll be very little work for you, but it would mean the world to us. Please, give us a chance.”

“Hot, huh?” he repeats, and I bite my tongue, realising what I just said. Truth is, it was my inner artist talking and he is indeed a very pretty subject for my shots. Even now he looks like he is ready to appear on the cover of Vogue or RollingStones.

“Yeah, I’d – I’d set all the lights and stuff and the photoshoot would be excellent.” 

“No no, I think you just said that i am hot, not that the photograph would make me look so.”

“I didn’t think you were the fishing type.” I tease him, not really wanting to keep the focus on my previous statement. 

“I am not, I just enjoy seeing you drowning in your words. It is very satisfactory.” He laughs. Something happens inside me at that sound, but I am not really sure what. Maybe it’s realizing that he is in fact human and not some sort of robot unable to have emotions. I know for sure that this is the first time I hear him laugh and even if it is at my expenses, I want to hear it again. 

“I wasn’t… doing that.” I say, rolling my eyes (I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it), “Would you help us, please?” I try again, I haven't lost hope yet. I think I might even beg him, if it comes to that. I might do anything; I am so tired of writing about sports matches. 

He is quiet for some time, that almost feels like an eternity, but it really isn’t, he’s still watching the city under him, his back straight, his arms crossed against his chest. Baz Pitch is quite a mystery, isn’t him?

“Fine.” He says, his voice a little soar, “but I’ve got conditions.” 

“Anything.” I nod.

He turns from the window and he leans against it, an evil grin on his lips and I feel like running away from here. “Careful with words, Snow.” 

“Let’s hear these conditions, they can’t be that bad.” I snort, trying not to show any emotion on my face (which he’s quite hard, because I am a very easy person to read). 

“First, I’ll be the one who picks the outfits for the shots. I don’t want to wear anything chosen by someone who dresses like that,” he says with a tiny smile, pointing at my clothes. 

“Fair enough,” I answer, not even a tiny bit offended (I am well aware that I am not very elegant), “the article is about your style, so it has to be as authentic as possible. Deal.”

He nods, biting again his lip and stepping closer to me. I feel like getting up and I do, because he is already taller than me, I don’t want to give him more chances to look at me as if I were a kid or something. 

“Second, for the shots it will be just me and you, I won’t pose in front of a room full of people. Think you can manage that?”

I swallow loudly, images from the movie Titanic coming to my mind in the most inappropriate time possible. I close my eyes for a second to drive them away, but it doesn’t really work. “Okay.”

He steps even closer, standing one breath away from me and he chains his grey eyes into mine, for a tiny moment I can’t remember why I came here in the first place. I can feel my body trying to pull me closer to him and closing the distance between us (I'd really just have to lean over a little bit to rouch him), but I plant myself like a tree. I won’t move. I don’t even know what’s going on. What’s going on? Why is he looking at me like that? It looks like he’s gonna eat me (that would totally match his vampire senses).

“The third thing isn’t really a condition. Let’s say it’s a request. For you.” He says; I smell his perfume all around me, like a cloud of cedar and bergamot. I feel my knees going weak, I think I might fall apart at any moment. 

He brings his mouth next to my ear, now he is only one heartbeat away and kindly whispers, “Come to the afterparty of the exhibit with me tomorrow.” I feel his breath on my neck, which is very distracting. 

Standing this close to him, I can see that his suit isn’t pitch black, it has tiny, elegant golden damasks embroided on it. (I only notice that)(I definitely don’t notice the way his Adam’s apple moves under his light brown skin or the fine chain of a necklace disappearing under his shirt, the little scar of a cut right under his ear or how long and graceful his neck is).

But then… what did he say? Did he just ask me out? 

Why would someone like him go out with someone like me? Also, how does he know I am bisexual? I’ve only told Penny and I don’t think she’s handing fliers with my businesses to our colleagues. 

Wait a minute, is he gay? Bi? Is he into guys at all? Or he's just --- 

Oh, fuck. Only in that moment I recall that Fiona asked us to show him the city, that he is new in town and he doesn’t know much people his age. That’s why he is asking me; he doesn’t want to go alone to the party. 

I know I haven't given him an answer, but I can barely think in this moment. 

“What do you say, Simon?” he breaths in my ear, waiting for me to answer. 

Play cool, Simon. You can answer and be casual, without fucking everything up. 

I open my mouth to answer, when I realize he just called me Simon. This takes me even more off guard. 

“Yeah, sure.” I say, my voice little more than a whisper. 

His breath tickles my skin and I suddenly feel his lips kissing my neck.

He is kissing my neck.

Baz Pitch is kissing my neck.

Baz Pitch, my extremely hot boss, who looks like a supermodel, is kissing my neck.

I think I might die. Or maybe I already died, and this is some sort of perverse heaven (I won’t complain, in that case). I shiver under his soft touch, my toes curls in my shoes and I am so surprised that I let out a soft moan.

I feel his lips melting into a smile (more probably a grin) against my skin at the sound and I feel waves of shame and embarrassment in my body. I come back to my mind, stumbling on my feet, willing to put some distance between us. With every inch of distance, I feel my head starting to work again. 

I stare at him with confusion and he sits on the edge of his desk, his eyes sparkling with amusement, still chained with mine. 

I feel anger bubbling in my belly. He is making fun of me. After kissing me. Well, he didn’t really kiss me, like… not a proper kiss (how would that feel?), but that’s not the point. “You had no right of doing that.” I say and I keep retreating. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Snow.” He smiles tenderly at me and I feel my cheeks flush again. We're back to Snow, evidently. 

“I don’t know if I still want to come.” I mutter, but I sound unsure even to my own ears. 

“I think you do.” He says as I reach the door.

He can go from insufferable twat to… well, a less insufferable and more tender twat in 0.2 seconds. What a lunatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon is me, he doesn't know shit about fashion, but we love photograph. 
> 
> Someone please gets my titanic reference, lol 
> 
> The introduction to the story is over, we finally get to see Simon and Baz being around each other eheheh 
> 
> Take care x


	5. elegant liars and starry night

SIMON

“I still haven’t understood what’s the point here.” Says Penny, checking my wardrobe. She’s picking different shirts to find one that matches perfectly with my blue suit, the most elegant I have (actually, it was a gift from Ebb for my 24th birthday)(she said it was the same exact blue of my eyes).

“There is no point, I just don’t wanna be the only one dressed poorly.” I shrug on my bed, hiding my face behind the still-growing pile of clothes on my blanket. 

“But that’s kinda new, don’t you think? Since when do you care about those things?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow at me. “This one.” She adds, showing me a very light blue shirt, that it’s almost white. I get up from the bed and try it on, I have to say blue is really my colour, because it makes my eyes brighter. 

“I don’t care.” I say, but that’s a lie. I haven’t stopped thinking about Baz in the last thirty hours and now that it’s almost time to go to the exhibit, I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Literally. 

I haven’t told Penny what happened in that office yet, because I am still unsure myself of what… happened. I just know that Baz couldn’t care less about me being in the room and minutes later his lips were on my neck. (On my neck!)(and then of course I had to ruin everything by fucking moaning). She was so happy to know he agreed to work with us, that she didn’t even notice that I wasn’t mentally there. I was… somewhere else. A place made by soft touches and tender lips. 

I keep telling myself that I won’t go out with Baz, because I can’t keep up with his mood swings and I don’t wanna be burned and he is my boss and I can’t lose this job and that I don’t really want to. 

But I am well aware that these are all lies. I do want to go out with him. He’s so handsome and my body literally shivers when he is in the same room, he’s some sort of mystery I want to solve.

The meeting before the exhibit was hell. I was on my little couch as always, trying to focus on whatever Fiona was saying, but I kept feeling Baz’s eyes on me and it was very distracting. I was trying so hard to look at everything but him. But I didn’t resist much. He locked me there, as soon as his gaze met mine. 

And he smiled. 

He smiled right at me. Like he knew something I didn’t. 

I don’t wanna get too involved in this. In him. I have too much to lose. 

I ended up googling him last night and I found out that he is the symbol of the Pitch Ink., even if I thought that was his father’s or Fiona’s role. At every event, he appeared with beautiful women and I mean really, really gorgeous, like the ones you see on Vogue’s covers. He has younger stepsiblings, his mother died when he was little, and his father married again. His father is about to retire and yet no official announcement on whether the company is becoming Baz’s or Fiona’s has been made. 

There wasn’t much about his private life and maybe it’s better that way.

“What do you say?” I ask Penny, checking my reflection in the mirror. The suit and the shirt definitely match, I think it will do (I’m not definitely on Baz’s level, but this is the best I can do). Also, I haven’t really decided yet if I want to go out with him or not. 

She pinches my arm, a tiny smile on her lips as she watches me through the mirror. “You are beautiful, Simon.” I feel my cheeks turn red; I am not really used to compliments. 

“Thanks, Pen.” 

“I’ll get dressed while you knot your tie.” She says, reaching for the door, “the white one!” 

By the time I’ve got my tie on (after five attempts), Penny is already dressed in the living room, with a beautiful green dress that makes her brown skin glows. “Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? It’s Penny.” I sing and she rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. 

“Enough compliments for one night, I think. We’re getting cheesy.” She laughs, “Ready to go?” 

“Lead the way, milady.” I bow and she jokingly slaps my hand down. 

The entrance of the exhibit is super fancy: strings of little white lights fall from the roof and light up all the façade of the building, bringing some sparkles in this cold late-November night. There is already a little crowd of people waiting outside, even though there is still an hour to go before the opening. We enter from the back entrance, where we find all our colleagues fixing the last details. The rooms are full of light and the painting are patiently waiting for people to admire them. 

I can’t wait to finish my work for tonight, so I’ll have time to wander around. Admiring. My inner artist is screaming, while I try to walk along the walls full of exceptional masterpieces, trying to ignore them and reach Fiona, at the end of the room, screaming orders to everyone who is brave enough to talk to her. 

She becomes a little bit… neurotic, at these events. 

If Fiona is quite a punk, with leather jackets and black boots outside the office (and sometimes inside it too), at the exhibits she’s always extra elegant. Today she is wearing a grey dress, that falls on her with soft waves like she was in a Renaissance painting. 

“Interns, it was about time!” she snorts, checking something on the papers she’s holding, “you still have to arrange the chairs in the rooms, make sure that they are aligned together or I’ll punch you. Go go go!” she says, shaking her hands at us, already yelling at someone else. My feet are already moving, too scared of her to stay here more. 

Baz is nowhere to be seen. Not that I wanted to see him. 

An hour later, the doors are opened and Penny and I start checking the names of the guests, letting people in after seeing their invitations. It is quite impossible to keep a professional expression and not freak out when I see people like Julie Andrews or Maggie Smith, but I try. I end up giggling, but they must be used to it, because they just smile at me (I was literally repeating in my mind: don’t ask for an autograph, don’t ask for an autograph, don’t ask for an autograph).

The flashes of the paparazzi photographing the guests keep catching my attention, but I try my best to ignore them. 

I start thinking that maybe Baz won’t show up and I feel bitterness in my throat at the thought, but at least I won’t have to choose whether to go out with him or not. Not that I wanted it that much. 

And suddenly, without notice, like a bolt from the blue, I see him. He’s standing there, in front of the paparazzi with a stupid smile on his face; a smile that I wonder what would taste like if I kissed it away. He turns and from his black limousine exits a young, beautiful woman, that could be a super model. She poses with him for a few shots, waving her hair and smiling widely at the cameras. 

I feel my stomach drops to the floor. He lied to me. I feel anger burning in my veins, but I shouldn’t be surprised after all. I feel weird looking at them, like something is terribly wrong. 

They don’t even stop at the entrance, obviously they don’t need an invitation to get in. He walks past me without even glancing at me and I feel my chest burns, but I have to remind myself that I am working, and I have to be professional. His hand is on the low back of the woman with him, right where the neckline (that lets out almost every inch of her back) of her dress ends. 

Fuck this. 

Penny shakes her hand in front of my eyes, “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” I mutter with hoarse voice. I look away from Baz, getting back to my work. I won’t waste another second thinking about him and the fact that he kissed my neck and lied to me.

When people start to leave, whether to go home or to the afterparty, Penny and I finally get to relax and enjoy the exhibit. I rub my eyes, “That was a lot of people.”

Penny has a stupid grin on her face since an hour, because she got to chat a little with Benedict Cumberbatch. “Yeah, but definitely worth it.” 

“Now, imma watch the exhibit, see you later?” I say and she nods; we have a routine for these events: she’ll go around interviewing visitors for her projects, and I’ll watch the paintings alone, because that’s the only way to really enjoy art. 

I take a flute of champagne and I start the tour, feeling suddenly a little bit better. That’s what art does to me.

Monet’s Water Lilies grab all my attention, I can’t literally pull my eyes away from it. The colours, the strokes of paint, the tenderness of the subject. I almost feel my soul leave my body. I take a sip from my glass, the bubbles tickle my tongue (I don’t really know anything about wine, but this one is really delicious). 

“Beautiful.” A voice murmurs at my left and I nod in agreement. I feel eyes staring at me and a lightning bolt strikes down my spine. Panic writhes my stomach. I can’t watch him without punching him, so it’s probably better if I keep my attention on the painting.

I stubbornly clench my jaw.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to me?” he says, with a sparkle of fun in his voice, “It’s a little bit difficult to go on a date with someone who won’t talk to you.”

This is the drop that breaks the camel’s back, and it arrived in less then thirty seconds. He does have talent to make me furious. 

“Date me?” I snap with bitterness, without looking at him. “I am not interested in a threesome with you and your… friend.” The words burn on my tongue, “You didn’t understand anything about me. I am not that type of person.”

He snorts softly and I can basically feel him cocking his eyebrow. “And what type of person are you, then?” 

“Not the one that likes to play your little games.” 

I feel his shoulder brush against mine and I curse myself for the goosebumps on my arms. “That’s not really what your body says.” 

I step back and start to walk to the next room; I have had enough of him. I leave my glass on the table while passing by it, too afraid I might break it squeezing it to hard. Stupid Baz. 

I feel his steps following me, but I don’t stop, instead I hope he’ll just get bored and stop. 

The next room is the last one before the dark room, and it’s almost empty, the few people in it are leaving by now, leaving the paintings all to me. 

Baz is in front of a big painting with a landscape (it really reminds me of the one he has pinned on the wall of his office), but I feel his eyes on me. I ignore him, putting as much distance between us. 

I almost forget to breath when I end up at Degas’ Blue Dancers. I have no words for this. I just… This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I wish I could photograph it.

“The way you face lights up when you look at art is very mesmerizing.” Baz mutter right in my ear. I feel his body right behind mine, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to lean against it. “That’s pretty much the same blue of your eyes, isn’t it?”

I have to remind myself that he’s just playing with me. I feel quite like a prey, standing in front of his predator, waiting to be eaten alive.

“You lied to me; I am not doing this game anymore.” I say, surprised by how firm my voice sounds. 

He grabs me by my hips and turns me to look at him, but he immediately removes his hands from my body. I don’t really meet his eyes, focusing instead on his elegant velvet suit. The room is empty now. “I didn’t.” he says, and I quite believe him (probably because I really, really want it to be true).

I shake my head and he brings two fingers under my chin, lifting my face to make me meet his gaze. He’s surprisingly tender, his skin is almost cold against mine. “When would’ve I do that?” 

“You asked me to go out with you and then you showed up with her.” I answer, trying to set beside my pride. Then, I add, because I don’t wanna look that weak, “No that I wanted to, anyways.”

“Don’t say that. You want to.” He says, his grey eyes suddenly darker. “Besides, I never said I’d come with you to the exhibit, you had to work and I had to, too. She’s Miss Yang, the daughter of one our most important clients.” 

Oh. “Good for you.” I say and I walk away, before he has the chance to reply. 

I step in the dark room and my jaw drops in amazement; this is ten time more beautiful than I imagined it. When we got in there before, the lights were off, and it was just a little room with black walls. Now that it is light up, it’s simply amazing. There are strokes of fluorescent paint on every inch, creating a life size landscape of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I am literally walking in this legendary painting, the stars shining above me, the little village in the corner, the sky swirling all over the place. 

“Wicked.” I whisper. 

“That’s quite beautiful.” Baz says, behind me, closing the thick curtains that don’t let the light of the previous room in. 

I turn around to look angrily at him, but the UV lights make his teeth and shirt shine in a way that’s definitely adorable and I just end up staring at him enchanted. He looks like some kind of faerie. 

“Are you done running from me?” he says, catching my gaze, grinning and he stops in the middle of the room.

“I am not running.” I snort, but these lights are doing something to his hair and I can’t really focus.

“Come here, then?” he mutters softly, and my feet move before I can stop them (not really sure if I want them to or not), because I’m weak. I step closer to him and I stand there, one breath away from him. Cedar and Bergamot all over me and something rattles in my belly. 

He is probably the most beautiful person I have ever seen.

I think I might kiss him. He’s right here and he is looking at me like I am some sort of magical creature, like I’m going to disappear any moment. 

I feel his hand brush my cheek, then he slowly brings his fingers in my curly hair. 

I think he might kiss me. He’s staring at me with his mouth slightly open, eyes shining in the dark. 

Then he lowers his head and I feel his lips on my neck, on the same spot where they were yesterday. 

I am a little disappointed, because I thought he was about to kiss me on the lips, but he eases all my thoughts by starting to suck and bite the skin of my neck, causing my body to shiver violently. 

I have never wanted anything more in my entire life. I have never wanted anyone more in my entire life. 

I can barely think, and I end up moaning. I bite my lip, trying to muffle any sound that might escape, but then he releases a shaky breath against my sensible skin like he enjoyed it, and I stop thinking at all. 

I grab his suit, trying to find something to hold onto, and I run a hand in his long black hair, that are exactly as soft as I imagined. 

He kisses my skin one last time and moves his head from my neck, his breath heavy, and he stares at my new mark like he created some sort of work of art. 

My head feels heavy, but in a good way. I am starting to realize what just happened and I look for his eyes. When I find them, he smiles fondly at me and that destroys every doubt I had. 

I get on the top of my toes and I kiss him on the lips, right under the most beautiful starry night anyone has ever seen.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer and he is kissing me back. I feel my knees melts, so squeeze his suit more tightly in my hands. His lips are soft. He kisses me with nothing but tenderness and it is so opposite to how he behave usually, that I give everything I have to him.

He leaves me breathless (he is too)(that’s quite hot) and he leans his forehead against me. Everything blurs out of focus, but his grey eyes, staring directly into mine. 

“You kissed me.” I say, because I am an idiot. 

He grins at me, “I guess you’ll come with me to the party, after all?” 

“I don’t know,” I mutter, “Why don’t we just stay here?” He still has his arms wrapped around me, so I can’t literally go anywhere, but somehow, I feel completely safe.

“We can if you want to, I own this place, you can stay as long as you desire, Snow.” 

“Simon.” I correct him and he rolls his eyes. I laugh, “If you want to kiss me, then it’s Simon.” 

I cock an eyebrow at me, but I see his eyes sparkles. “Who says I want to kiss you again?”

“Your arms still around me?” I reply. 

He looks down and then smiles at me, like he just realized he’s still holding me. “Fine.”

“Simon.” He whispers against my lips and the he’s kissing me again.

And again. And again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, this chapter is super long, i just got caught in it. I am sorry! 
> 
> I just literally played at "Why don't i put my favourite paintings and these two idiots in the same room and see what happens?" 
> 
> Also, when they are in front of Water Lilies and Baz says "beautiful", he's talking about the painting at all ;)
> 
> Take care x


	6. sleepless night and playing dirty

SIMON

"I think it's about time we leave, the caretakers are probably about to clean the place and I don't want them to find us here." Baz says with his face in my hair. 

We ended up sitting on the floor, Baz's back against the wall and mine against his chest. He's holding me thigh and I don't want to ever go away. I am almost sure that as soon as we'll leave, everything will be back to normal and he'll just be a twat again. 

"Don't want to." I mutter and I press my forehead against his neck. I hear him let out a shaky breath, as if he were fighting an inner battle against himself. 

He grabs my arm and squeezes it a little, "Snow." He warns me. 

I learned a few things about him in the last hour. He's such a good kisser, a very very good one. My lips are a little sore from all the snugging, but I definitely won't complain. Also, he held me against him the whole time, as if he was afraid I was gonna leave him any moment.  
I learned that if I tug his hair, he moans (but I definitely didn't take advantage of this discover, I still don't know where the lines are between us)(but I pointed it down for future purposes).  
I learned that there is a point, right under his ear, where the skin is more sensible; exactly where he has a little scar and that if I run my tongue there, he shivers under my touch. 

And then we ended up chatting, even if a whole lot of kisses were involved.   
He told me that he just moved here from London and that he really doesn't like New York weather. I told him that I live with Penny and that I studied art and photograph at college. 

We didn't really talk about anything important, but it was enough. 

The way his voice was soft against my ear was enough. The way his thumb caressed my hand was enough. 

I wonder when the spell will break. 

"What do you care? You are the boss, can't you do what you want?" I mutter and I feel his body tense against mine. 

"I can't." He replies and he let go of my body. I get this is the drill for "get up, Simon", so I do. He gets up too and he tries to smooth the wrinkles on his clothes. I don't really care about it, so I just stares at him. 

"Just to be clear, you don't want to be found here or you don't want to be found here with me?" I ask, I clench my jaw, trying to hide the expression my face wants to make. 

"Snow, don't make this difficult." He says, cocking his eyebrow at me. "Besides, we shall go anyways."

“Yes, fine. But what we’ll we be out there?” I ask and he looks away. More than an answer.

"So what, you kissed me and once we get out there we'll behave as... Friends?" I snap and I cross my arms against my chest. 

"We are not friends," he points out with annoyed voice, his grey eyes in mine, then he softens his tone, "but that's what people will know, yes. Friends." 

"What if I don't want to be your little secret?" 

He cups my cheek with his hand and even if I don't want to, I lean against it automatically. I can't help it, when he touches me with gentle fingers. "Then we can't go out at all."

There is something in my belly that is completely against this idea, but my brain knows better. "How can this be a secret if you marked my neck? What am I supposed to say?" 

"I marked you because I want you to be mine." he says, simply and my jaw drops to the floor.

Mine mine mine, my hearts sings. 

But I won't do this, I'd just get burned and I don't wanna feel like that ever again. Agatha pops to my mind, but I try so hard to ignore her. "I can't."

He lets his hand fall and I step back a little. His eyes get darker. "Why not?" 

"Just..." I can't think when he is this near and he's looking at me like that. I can barely breath. "That's not what I want." 

He lows his head and I freeze. He kisses the mark on my neck, one time, gently, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

"I’m not looking for a relationship or anything, my job will always come first. But we can go out sometimes. You know, make out." he says and all I can do is shake my head, before literally running away. 

The fact is that if I dont get away now, I won't be able do it later. I hope he doesn’t follow me, I can’t deal with this anymore for tonight. 

I go to the wardrobe and I put on my coat and scarf (thanks God I brought a scarf), hiding my hickey. 

All the rooms are empty and I find Penny on a chair near the entrance, reading a book I didn't even know she brought with her in the first place. Her stilettos abandoned near her naked feet. 

"It was about time!" Penny says, putting her shoes on again. "Couldn't find you anywhere. I thought you left without me."

"I'd never do that." I reply and I help her get up, "You know, paintings and stuff." 

I hate lying to Penny, and i'm almost sure she knows I’m doing it, but she chooses to give me time. I love her so much. I wouldn't have the strength to talk about what happened right now. 

"Let's go home, I hate these stupid heels." she snorts and like that the night ends. 

No after party, no date with Baz. Just a weird feeling in my belly and a little headache. 

The memory of his lips still fresh on mine and i can't about anything but the way he held me thight. 

I’d call it a night.

-

Saturday morning, around 5 am, I sneak into Penny’s bed and she lets me without questions, she just squeezes my hand with a sleepy smile and we fall asleep again. I couldn’t sleep, my body was aching with sadness and anger. I feel like Baz played with me (and I let him)(what an idiot).

Penny and I have been roommates since we drop out of high school, we went to the same college and we shared a tiny apartment near the campus. It was very little and ugly, but it was the first place I got to call my home. After graduating, we moved from London to New York, looking for a fresh start. We didn’t even discuss about whether to live together again or not, we just both knew it was the best thing to do. 

So, Penny has known I have troubles sleeping for a long time and somewhere between the first and the second year of college, we just began sleeping together when I had a particularly tough nightmare. She doesn’t ask me what I see in my nightmares and I am grateful for that, but any time I want to talk about ir, she listens to me without complaining. 

Penny is my better half. I couldn’t make it without her. 

“Hey.” She says, when I open my eyes, looking at me from the other side of the bed.

“Morning,” I reply and I give her a little smile, stretching my body. There is so much light in the room, it must be late morning. 

“Simon.” She whispers and I frown at her tone.

“Is that a hickey?”

Fuck, I totally forgot to cover it up. I decided to tell her, but I didn’t want her to find out like that. “Maybe?” I mumble. 

“Simon Snow, who the fuck gave you a hickey and why on earth didn’t you tell me.” She growls and I sunk my face into the pillow. It’s never a good thing when she uses my full name. 

“Baz.” I murmur, but the sound is muffled by the pillow and she slaps my arm. 

“Tell me.” 

I raise my head just a few inches and I whisper again, “Baz.”

“Oh my God, what?!” Her Jaw drops to the floor and I can feel the wheels start spinning furiously in her head. “Is that why he accepted to work with us? Did you prostitute yourself to get a promotion?” 

“What? No, I did not.” I wince and I throw my pillow at her. “Who do you think I am?” 

“Then why did he mark your neck? And when?”

“At the exhibit and… he just did, I don’t know, Penny. What do you want me to say? I don’t understand what happened either.” 

My voice cracks and her eyes soften, “Is him a good kisser, at least?”

“He is! You have no idea, oh my god.” I say and I feel my cheeks turn red. Even if it’s Penny, it’s still very difficult for me to talk about these things. 

“So are you two like… together?” 

I sigh and I tell her everything. It makes me feel a little bit better, some weight lifting from my chest. 

“We don’t have to do the article anymore, if you don’t want to, Si.” She nods solemnly and I know how much she cares about that project, so I feel my heart wriggle in my chest. 

“No, the show must go on. C’mon, it was just a kiss, I am not that breakable.” I say. 

“Are you sure? After Agatha…” 

“I’m sure.” 

And just to prove that it was, in fact, just a kiss, I spend an hour trying to convince Penny that I am sick and that I can’t go to the office Monday morning. 

After I assured her that I was okay, she spent the weekend trying to keep me busy, with no time to think about Baz (it didn’t really work, but I appreciate the attempt).

Sadly, she takes no shit and she makes me get ready for work anyway. She won’t let me be miserable, because that’s just how she is. She can’t stand to let me be sad without helping me. 

And I appreciate her, I really do. But I complain about it all the way to the office. 

“I am so very sick. I’ll infect everyone, it’s better if I just come back home.” I say and I cough to prove my point.

“Yeah, sure, over my dead body.” She replies, getting off the elevator. “You have to deal with this, he’s your boss anyway, so the sooner you get over it, the better.” 

“I hate you.” I snort.

“You love me.” She corrects me, elbowing my arm. 

The morning goes okay, Baz is nowhere to be seen and I got to chat a little with Ebb, who is working on a new article about climate change. Soon or later people will understand how important it is to protect our planet (probably later)( when it will be too late). 

I put some scones in a plate; the buffet today looks even more tasty, but it’s probably due to the fact that I didn’t take breakfast because I was late (evidently, complaining steals time). 

“You should eat healthier, you know.” A voice that is alarmingly too similar to Baz’s says behind me and I freeze. 

“Butter is just healthy enough.” I reply, trying to behave as I’m not really touched by his presence (I am, because I am weak)(and an idiot). I have to remind myself that he is my boss and I can’t punch him in the face. That saddens me a little. 

He leans on the table of the buffet, grabbing an apple from a basket. “Dinner tonight? I’ll show you there are better things than butter.” 

“There is nothing better than butter, so no. But that was very kind of you, Mr. Pitch.” I say with the kinder voice I can manage. What a nerve!

He squints his eyes, “Baz.” 

“Mr. Pitch will do.” I say, pouring some fruit juice in a glass. He stretches his arm to grab something and his hand brush against mine, sending shivers down my spine. His skin is always so cold. And soft soft soft.

“Baz,” he repeats, his tone is a little threating, “come out with me, I want to make amend to my behaviour of last night.” I stare at him and he adds, with a whisper, “Please, Simon.” 

My heart tightens at the sound of my name on his lips, but I know better than to fall in his trap. “Listen, I won’t stay with you any longer than I am bound to, so strictly for work reasons. I can’t and won’t be your fuck friend.” 

“Who talked about fucking?” He cocks an eyebrow at me, grinning. “But, fine.” He says and with that, he’s gone. I watch him disappear into his office with confusion.

It was easier than I thought, another proof that he doesn’t care about me at all. It shouldn’t hurt but it does. 

Around the end of my shift, Fiona calls me in her office. 

“If it’s because I haven’t delivered the article about those football matches, I swear it’s almost done. It will be on your desk tomorrow morning.” I mumble and she rolls her eyes. 

“It’s not for that, even if now that you reminded me, I shall yell at you. But let’s overcome it.” 

“Why am I here, then?” 

“I decided to give you more responsibilities; you’ve worked here for a while now and you’ve done a great job, so I guess it’s an easy decision to make.” 

“Are you – Are you giving me a promotion?” I can’t believe it, yes! Finally!

But… what about Penny? She definitely deserves it more than me, so maybe I shouldn’t accept. 

“Not exactly,” she grins. “Baz asked me to have a personal assistant and he wanted you, I told him I needed to think about it, but I definitely believe it would be a great experience for you, so why not? You’ll still have to design the pages for Penny’s articles about Fashion and Sports, but you’ll also have to help my nephew with his work.”

“I –“

I can’t believe it. This is a disaster, fucking hell. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I -

“No reasons for that surprised expression, Simon! You’ll do great, I’m sure. No need to thank me! Now go and finish that football thing.” She dismisses me and I still have my mouth open when I get back to my desk.

Baz’s personal assistant. 

Fucking Baz, he’ll pay for this one. 

(Maybe he does care after all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon is a puppy, protect him at all cost!  
> Penny is a great best friend, shout out to my two best friends and roommates, Sam and Math. I love my boys!
> 
> Also, if you want to complain about how far July 2021 is, you can find me on tumblr @lovi-ngbooks 
> 
> Take care x


	7. deals and unexpected texts

SIMON

It is absolutely weird to enter the office and not stop at my desk, as I've done every other morning for more than a year.

What's even more weird is Penny being all "I want to kick his dumb ass" since yesterday. She's usually very calm, but somehow, she's super scary when she's pissed off. I am extremely grateful that she cares about me, but I don't want her to get in some troubles because of me.

"If he does something inappropriate, you slap his pretty face right away. Deal?" She says, looking at Baz's office door with angry eyes.

"We talked about this, no one is slapping our boss. We'll see how it goes, don't worry about me." I pat her back, I don't even know why I am reassuring her, but she looks way more worried than me, so here I am.

"Fine." She says, rolling his eyes. "But I'll always worry about you, Simon."

I hug her, even if that's not really our coup or tea. "Save some scones for me, I’m already starving!" I tell her, reaching Baz's office. Ignoring the buffet is super difficult, but I can’t stop by.

I knock on the door, trying to hide every expression from my face and I enter when I hear his muffled answer.

He's sitting at his desk, drinking from a giant mug. "Snow." He grins at me. I feel his eyes study my body, from toes to head. I kinda feel anxious he might find something wrong in me, but then I remember myself I don't really care.

"Good Morning, Mr. Pitch." I say, in the most formal voice I can manage. I'm torn between laughing of this whole situation and kissing his grin away.

"Mr. Pitch..." he repeats, like he wants to taste how it sounds on his tongue, "Let's play a game!"

What? No. "I am here to work, not to play." I shake my head.

"But you work for me, don't you?" he says, with that stupid, sexy little smile. "And I say we should play."

"And what game did you have in mind?" I ask, looking suspiciously at him. I don't really like where this thing is going.

“Every time you call me Mr. Pitch and not Baz, I earn a kiss. Where I want.” He says, nodding with satisfaction at his own idea. 

“I won’t kiss you anymore.” I say, surprised by how my voice sound firm, while my head is just singing ‘he wants me to kiss him. He wants me to kiss him wherever’. 

“Then I suppose you’ll have to call me Baz, won’t you, Snow?” he snaps back, cocking an eyebrow at me. “It shouldn’t be that difficult. Do we have a deal?” 

No, we don’t. But I can’t properly think while he is looking at me like he is undressing me with his eyes. It’s very distracting.

Two can play this game.

“Fine by me, but the same goes to you. You’ll call me Simon.” I reply, with a smart smirk. 

I really do think this will be more difficult for him, than for me. I call him Mr. Pitch just to piss him off, he calls me Snow because… well, I don’t know why he does that, but I’ll win this game.

He seems to be thinking about it for a little while, then he nods, smiling widely. “If you want me to kiss you so bad, you just have to ask.” 

“The only things I want from you are that article with Penny,” I say rolling my eyes. I realize that I am standing in the middle of the room like an idiot and I decide to sit in front of him. “and that you call me by my name.”

He’s still smiling when he offers me his hand, “Deal.” 

I shake his hand and he hold mine a second too long, never tearing his eyes away from mine; his skin is always cold, but I clearly feel something in my belly at that touch. I don’t really know if that’s irritation or lust. 

“So, what do you want me to do?” I ask and when he starts smirking at my request, I add (feeling a little bit like I fell in his trap), “As your personal assistant. For work.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning and I’ll need you to come by. Also, you have to make sure that all the documents written on this list,” he offers me some papers and I take them, making sure not to touch his fingers, “are correct and printed for lunch time. Think you can manage that? In the afternoon, you’ll have to do whatever you usually do for this magazine. Basically, you can do what you want after lunch, but every morning you are mine.” He says the last word slowly, biting his lips. “And whenever I need you.”

Teasing motherfucker. 

“Yeah, sure, Mr.-“ I start but when I realize what I’m saying, I correct myself, “Baz.”

He laughs, “I am not sure calling me Mr. Baz isn’t actually cheating. I’ll think about it.”

I can’t help but smile, “I am sure it’s not.” 

“Also, I’ll need your phone number, in case I’ll need your help with anything.” He says it casually, but his eyes tell me otherwise.

I roll my eyes – making sure he notices it – and I write my phone number on a post-it on his desk. I guess he wins this match (he definitely knows it).

Our eyes remain chained together for a while, but then I look away. “Anything else?” 

“No, thanks. You can go, I have work to do.” He dismisses me and I get up from my chair, taking the list of what I have to do with me. 

“Can you please bring me another cup of tea?” he adds, with a teasing smile and he hands me his mug.

“Sure.” I shrug and get out, without looking back.

And I know we could never work out, because he drinks tea and I’m much more a coffee person. 

When I get back to his office, he’s talking to the phone, looking outside the window (giving me a chance to stare at his insanely perfect ass).

I scoff a little, to let him know that I brought him his tea and he turns his face around to see me. He covers the speaker of his phone and then he smiles at me. Not a grin, a proper smile. His whole face lights up and I think so badly about how much I want to photograph him in this exact moment.  
Then, he says hoarsely, spelling every word insanely slowly, “Thank you, Snow.”

I freeze, not exactly knowing what to do, how I am supposed to behave. My head is screaming ‘he wants to kiss you soooo badly’, but I can’t move. 

I am fucking sure that he knows damn well what he is doing. He didn’t call me Snow by accident. 

Fucking Baz. 

But then he turns his head and he’s talking to his phone again. 

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, and I literally run away, in panic, seeking the safety of my desk. Where there are a lot of people. And where Baz can’t follow me. 

But I know he knows that, too. He is just playing with me, like the insufferable twat he is.

It’s better if I just focus on my work. I correct every single document on his stupid list, eating scones (I lost count around the 4th) and by lunch, I’ve printed them, and I am ready to go out. Breath some fresh air. Eat lunch with Penny – yes, I am still hungry, stop judging me, it’s been a very stressful morning.

Luckily, when I enter Baz office to give him his documents, there is Fiona in there too and he doesn’t get a chance to torture me. 

“How is this thing between you two?” Fiona asks me and I almost choke on my saliva.

“What thing? There are no things here.” I mumble and she rolls her eyes. 

“I meant how you your first day as his personal assistant is going.” 

Baz smirks her me from behind here, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, all good.” I nod, willing to go away. 

“Excellent, I knew it would work out just fine!” she claps her hands once, smiling at me and then at his nephew. 

-

The morning after is even more weird than the first one.

I managed to avoid seeing Baz for the rest of the day yesterday and so, I meet him for the first time after he called me Snow, right in front of the meeting room doors, five minutes before the meeting begins.

“Do you have everything I asked for?” he asks, checking my body once with his eyes. 

“Yes.” I nod and I hand him all the papers he asked for. He doesn’t take them, and I look at him with frowned bow. “What?”

“What do you think you are here for?” he snorts, “You are my hands, you’ll hand the papers when I ask you to during the meeting.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

“Don’t look that miserable,” he whispers, so I am the only one who can hear him, “You should be excited. I still owe you one kiss, after all.”

I shiver involuntarily, “I am not sure about that, as you did it on purpose.” 

“Well, I wanted to give you an advantage, as after the meeting you’ll have a great debt on me.” He smirks. 

“And why would I do that? I can control myself, Baz.” I say, to prove my point.

“Sure you can,” he huffs a laugh, “but during the meeting, in front of everyone, you can’t call me anything but Mr. Pitch or it’ll look like you are not fit for this work and you don’t take it professionally.” 

Oh fucking shit. I didn’t realize that till now. 

“You cheated.” I growl. “You cheated!”

“I did not.” He smiles, “It’s just that I can do business and you can’t.”

And he leaves me there, standing like an idiot, my expression twisted by surprise and irritation (and just a tiny, tiny part of admiration, because he managed to trick me into this, and I didn’t even realize it until he told me).

During the meeting (that is extremely more boring than the ones we do with Fiona), I just have to stand there and bring coffee and water to the businessmen sited around the big table. They are all old and look super posh; there are five personal assistants beside me (I hope they don’t get trapped in this as I did, at least Baz is young, beautiful and smart, these men are all old and kinda unpleasant in the manners).

Even if Baz is the youngest one, he still has control over everyone. Every man looks a bit frightened by him and no one dares interrupt him or contradict him. The tiny part of admiration for him in me grows exponentially.

He is my same age and he knows exactly what he is doing with his life, while I’m here, looking like an idiot. Taking coffee to people. He is born for this. 

The meeting lasts several hours, and I have no idea how Baz manages not to fall asleep while listening to these men talking about this boring stuff. I don’t understand any of it, but there are a lot of numbers and names. 

He manages to make me call him Mr. Pitch eight times by the end of it and every time I got a little glance back, that said ‘I am taking count, don’t worry’. Me too, Baz. Me too.

Baz has to shake a lot of hands and when he is done, I follow him outside. His mood is not particularly positive, and he growls at me “Go back to work.”, so I do. Because my head aches and I just want my back to stop shivering because I am standing way too close to him. 

That night, when I am in wrapped in a lot of blankets, absolutely not thinking about grey eyes and soft lips, my phone vibrates. I take it from the nightstand and read the text.

From unknown: Eight. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting new chapters yesterday, but 2020 did it again and there was a flood where I live and it's still raining, so I probably won't be posting regularly for a few days. Sorry x
> 
> Take care x


	8. unexpected gifts and Baz in jeans

SIMON

I tossed and turned all night in my bed, without being able to actually sleep, but I finally managed to decide how to behave with Baz. 

If he wants to play, we’ll play. 

But if he is cheating, I won’t be the one who play fair and square.

That’s what is going repeatedly in my head when I enter his office.

The only problem is that the first thing I notice when I open the door is that there is a new desk in the room. Not just any desk. My desk. (How did I not notice that it was missing from its usual place?)(probably because I was thinking about how to defeat Baz at his own stupid game). 

“What…? What is – why is my desk here?” I struggle to find the words, looking at it like it’s some sort of alien spaceship fallen from the sky right before my eyes. 

“I thought it would be easier for you to handle being my personal assistant and your work if you could just, you know,” he says, smirking at me, “stand closer to me.”

I shoot him a look, but I can’t really be mad at him, because he put all my cameras on a shelf, all aligned together carefully, like they were some important prizes to be particularly proud of. 

Maybe he does care, sometimes. 

“You like them?” he asks, getting closer to me. “I convinced Fiona to buy you a new one, you know.” 

Looking more closely at the shelf, I notice there is actually a new one. My jaw drops to the floor and I caress the camera with two fingers, too afraid to pick it up. “Oh my God, is that a Fujifilm X T-30?! It costs like hundreds of dollars.”

“It is.” He says and I turn to face him, but he’s definitely standing closer than I thought, so I find myself just a few inches away from his face. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I could, and I wanted to.” He says simply with a shrug.

“Thank you then, I guess.” I smile at him and – surprisingly – he smiles back. 

“There is no need to thank me, you’ll still have to use it for work, so it’s not a big deal, really.” He replies, shaking one hand to dismiss the topic. And I grab it.

He gasps for the surprise, but he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me. I run my thumb over his knuckles with a tiny smile. “Thank you. I guess I could pay some of my debt now?” I ask and his face is even more surprised than before. 

He manages to control his expression and he grins (twat). “What about paying your debt at dinner tomorrow night?” 

I try not to lose my chill, when I step a little bit closer. To be honest, I have no idea what I am doing, my body is just going on autopilot. “What if I pay one seventh of it now and the rest tomorrow night?” 

His eyes go darker, the grey barely visible in them. He swallows loudly and I think ‘I finally have you where I want you to be’. 

I take this as my victory and I could almost clap my hands, if I hadn’t one otherwise occupied. His long fingers intertwined with mine. 

He doesn’t look away while he points a spot on his cheek, right near the corner of his lips. He doesn’t lower his head, so I get on the top of my toes and I kiss him right there. Once. Slowly. I feel his face turning, so I move away slightly, and he ends up brushing his nose against my forehead. 

Something funny happens to my heart. 

I bring my lips as near to his ear as I can manage and I whisper, “Seven.” And then I walk away, leaving him standing there, looking at me with wide eyes and lips slightly parted. 

I mentally high five myself. I won this time. I definitely won. 

I sit at my desk and I look at him, brow dramatically furrowed. “Don’t you have work to do?” 

He groans, he runs his fingers through his hair and then he rolls his eyes. “Why do I feel like you are beating me at my own game?”

“Because I am,” I smile and then I add, just for good measure, “Baz.”

“I never lose, watch your ass,” he says, grinning and after a little pause, “Snow.” 

Fucking Baz. I don’t really think he wants to win at whatever this is, but I am having too much fun at the moment to worry about it. 

He sits at his desk, right at the other side of the room and start typing on his keyboard. We don’t talk for a while, busy doing our work, but I often feel his gaze on me, but I am brave enough not to look at him. 

I learn a few things about Baz: when he is thinking about something, he puts his tongue between his lips; he answer way too many calls, literally (he spent like 80% of the day at the phone); he drinks a lot of tea, but I guess I can’t judge, as I’m at my fourth cup of coffee by lunch time; he always (always) looks like he’s taking a photoshoot. It would be almost unnerving, if he wasn’t so good to look at. 

At the end of the shift, I get up from my desk, stretching my body. “If that’s all, I’d go home.” I tell him and he nods absently, still focused on his laptop. 

We haven’t really talked about tomorrow date, so I don’t really know what to expect.

“I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow around 6 o’clock, don’t be late. I don’t really like to wait.” He says, when I’m about to leave (probably because he only likes to be overdramatic, or he’d told me any other minute of the day we spent in holy silence).

“How do you even know where I live?” I ask, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You work for me, I know a lot of things about my employees.” He shrugs, like it’s obvious and not creepy at all. 

“You didn’t really need me to tell you my phone number, did you?”

He huffs a laugh, “Not really, but it was more fun.”

I roll my eyes at him, but it just makes him laugh more. 

-

“So, he really said ‘date’?” Penny asks, checking my wardrobe. 

“Well, he said dinner, so it’s almost the same thing.” I shrug and I point a navy-blue shirt, “What about this one?” 

She shakes her head, “But didn’t he say anything more? Like where, what to wear… Anything at all?” 

“Nothing.” I fall on my bed and I run a hand through my curly hair. 

Penny wasn’t as surprised as I thought she would be when I told her that I was going on a date with Baz. She just nodded and told me to be careful and I love her for not make me panic more about this thing. 

“Then there is only one thing you could wear.” She says, seriously. “Go with the black shirt.”

“Why that one?” I laugh. 

“Because you are so hot in that one and he’ll definitely lose his chill if he sees you wearing it. That’s a scene I’d love to see, please take pics of his reaction.” She says with an evil grin.

“It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, then.” 

I shower quickly and I get dressed; at 5:59 pm the intercom rings and I jump for the surprise. 

“Well, he knows what he’s talking about when he says he hate being late.”Penny laughs and checks me out. “You’re gorgeous, Simon. Please, please, be careful. Call me if you need anything and don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

I roll my eyes with a smile, “I am not going out with Christian Grey, Pen. It’s just Baz, I’ll be fine.” 

She hugs me anyway, half pissed off, half worried. “See you.” 

There is a posh black car outside the door of my building and a man standing in front of it, like he’s about to pick up the queen herself. 

“Good evening, Mr. Snow.” He says, opening the rear door of the car for me. “My name is David, I’m Mr. Pitch’s driver.” 

“Oh, uhm… Good evening.” I say and I get into the car. When the driver sits behind the wheel, I add, “Please, call me Simon.” 

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He replies, in a formal tone. I see him looking at me from the rear-view mirror. 

“Oh, I won’t tell Baz, ehm… Mr. Pitch. It would be our secret.” I tell him and he smiles a little. 

“I’ll think about it, Mr. Snow.” He nods, driving through the traffic. 

“Do you… bring a lot of people to Baz’s place?” I ask, playing with my hands nervously. 

“I won’t discuss Mr. Pitch’s private life, I’m sorry.” He says and I feel like I’ve just been dismissed. 

After some time, we park in a big, luminous carpark, filled with a lot of modern cars (I don’t even want to know how much they cost).

And I see him, standing there. Waiting for me. He opens my door as soon as David stops the car and he offers me his hand. 

To my full surprise, he isn’t wearing a suit. 

“Baz… you’re wearing jeans.” I say, shocked and he rolls his eyes. He feel my mouth run dry, he definitely looks hot in jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out I am locked at home, so don't worry, I'll be posting regularly!  
> Thanks again for all the kind comments, they really mean a lot to me as this is my first fic in english and I am quite unsure about it.  
> Next chapter is... eheheh
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lovi-ngbooks
> 
> Take care x


	9. three things and falling asleep

SIMON

As soon as the doors of the elevator close, Baz is pressing me against the wall with his whole body, his hands on my hips and his eyes as dark as the night.

He stares at me for a bunch seconds, before whispering in my ear, "The things I'd do to you if there weren't security cameras."

I swallow loudly, trying not to shiver under his touch. His nose is in my hair and I can barely breath. "Is this a threat?"

"Oh, no." He moves his head back a little, after gently biting my lobe, and locks his eyes in mine. "It's a promise."

I am pretty sure my cheeks are bright red, but I don't look away while my lips stretch in a wide smile. "Empty words." I tease him and he groans.

I think he's about to kiss me, because he has that light in his eyes that is unmistakable, but the doors open with a ding and he steps back.

He takes a deep breath before smirking at me, "Don't try me, Snow."

Snow. Three kisses.

I didn't forget how he lied to me at the exhibit, but I wrapped my head around the fact that he won't stop behaving like this with me, so I might as well have fun in the meantime.

And he is so hot. And smart. And funny. And bright. All these things are hard to ignore, let's be honest.

I think this is just fun and game, until he grabs my hand and walk out of the elevator, pulling me with him, our fingers intertwined tightly together.

Sometimes he does things like this and I am not sure anymore if it's true that he doesn't really care about me.

But I don't have to solve every single one of my doubts tonight.

His attic is astonishing. It's not really like I imagined it would be, exactly as his office. I might say he is full of surprises.

The elevator opens directly into the living room (that is pretty much bigger than my whole apartment), the wall in the front is made of glass and there is a magnificent view over New York's skyscrapers. The sky is dark and the city is lighting up like a Christmas tree.  
The other walls are covered in dark wood, a part from the fireplace, that has thick rocks climbing up to the ceiling. There are two couches, both grey, that look like the comfiest things I've ever seen in my life.  
There is like a mix of countryside and modern city that is quite interesting.

I'd literally start jumping on it right now, if there wasn't Baz in the room. I'd never do that in front of him, I still have some dignity.

"Why are we at your place? Didn't we have to have dinner somewhere?" I ask, to break the tension.

He shrugs, without letting go of my hand. "I thought we could just eat here."

"So nobody could see us together, I’ve noticed." I add, rolling my eyes. I’m not sure if I really want to let the world know that we are seeing each other, but I’d rather do that than being hidden somewhere till he is alone.

He squeezes my hand as a warning, "Can we please not do that tonight?"

"Sure," I shrug, following him in the dining room, "just… if not now, then when?"

He turns to face me, but I notice it too late and I end up smashing against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, like he stopped on purpose to trap me (not that I'm complaining). "Someday." He replies, simply.

His eyes look so exhausted, that I decide to let it go for now. "You called me Snow before." I point out.

"I guess I did," he says with a dumb smile that is absolutely adorable. "What's my punishment?"

I smile back at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in my belly. "I guess you'll have to kiss me, then."

He leans his forehead against mine, his smile widening, and I wrap my hands behind his neck.

"No," he says, one breath too far away from me, "You kiss me."

I roll my eyes, but I’m already getting on my tiptoes, kissing him full on the mouth.

Fuck, I missed these lips so much, it's been a week since the exhibit and all the teasing of these days has done nothing but make me want more and more kisses from him. 

I run a hand through his hair, that is exactly as soft as I remembered it, and I pull it kindly, making him moan in my mouth.

He doesn't waste time seeking his revenge as he slips his tongue against my bottom lip and from there we both become a mess of heavy breathes and exploring hands in a a few minutes.

"You definitely should do this more often," he says, when I pull back.

I laugh, removing my hands from his hair, that is way less styled than before (my bad). I step back and I fix the shirt on my belly, where his hands were rubbing circles against my skin just seconds before. "I could, if you weren't such a prick all the time."

"I'm not," he cocks an eyebrow at me, "I just hate when people let me down, so I prefer have control over things and not just let everything happen randomly."

"You know, I wasn't talking about work."

I think I hear him whisper, "Me neither." but I am not sure.

The dining room is just as pretty (to say the least) as the rest of the attic, but what catches my attention is the painting on the wall, that looks similar to the one he has in his office. A Victorian villa in the woods.

The table is already set and at my extreme surprise, there is a candle lit between the plates.

Incurable romantic, then. Noted.

I can’t help but smile a little, but I bite my bottom lip to hide it, I know better than to let him know that all his effort is working really good on me. Way too good. 

Don’t get yourself too caught up in this, Simon. 

“What’s that face for?” Baz cocks an eyebrow at me, and I immediately stop biting my lip. 

“I am not doing any face.” I say and I shrug, looking away. 

“Good or I’d have to kiss it away.” He says and even if I’m not looking at him, I know he probably has that damn smirk on his stupid face. “And I don’t wanna repay my debt all before dinner.”

My belly is still doing that funny thing that I don’t really know how to describe. It’s quite different that when I was with Agatha, it never happened to me before. With her it was like… coming home, all was always the same and it was familiar, easy.

With Baz, well… let’s just say that my body is not used to all these weird emotions that creep in my organs every time he touches me. Or is just somewhere nearby. Or I think about him.

I definitely have to think about something else, like right now, or I won’t be able to survive this night.

I sit on one of the chairs, while Baz put a giant plate of pasta in front of me.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” I say and I watch him sit at the other side of the table. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says and it’s painfully true, so I turn my attention to the food (that looks absolutely delicious, by the way). “But I really can’t cook this good, my housekeeper did this for us.”

Of course he has an housekeeper in this palace, I should’ve seen this coming. “The great Baz who admits he can’t do something. Wicked.” I tease him. 

“Oh, well, I’m not insecure, I can admit my only lack in life.” He grins. 

“I am pretty sure this isn’t your only lack; I am determined to find every single one of your flaws. I don’t think you are as perfect as you seem.” 

“Perfect, huh?” He says and I feel his foot rub against mine. “I don’t have flaws.” 

“You look so badass that you are most likely to be afraid of too-bright sunsets and corgi puppies.” I laugh and he rolls his eyes. 

“Stop showering me with compliment.” He smirks and I bite my cheek to shut up. My problem is that when I’m nervous I start talking randomly. 

“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, anyways. I never thought I’d say something like this, but it’s even better than butter.” I say. 

“I beg your pardon, butter?” he says, his eyes widening in disbelief. 

“I won’t confirm nor deny anything.” I smile, I don’t really want to play mysterious, I just don’t want to admit that I eat butter. Like, with a spoon. Directly from the box. “Tell me three things I don’t know about you.” 

He snorts at my poor attempt to change the topic, but he answers anyways. “I got my degree two years earlier because I had excellent grades.” 

“Boring. I want to know something I wouldn’t find googling your name.” 

“I take it as you already googled me?” he laughs and I shrug, not really willing to answer that. “Fine, but you’ll tell me three things about you, too.”

“Deal.” I say, sipping some red wine. 

He thinks about it for a little while, then he shakes his head like he can’t believe he is really doing this. “I miss home so bad that sometimes I facetime my sister and ask her to show me around.” 

I… wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t think he’d opened up with me this easily. I am quite touched; I put my hand over his on the table and he looks at me like he just realized he said it out loud. “You really do love London, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” he nods, “but I wasn’t talking about London. I was talking about home.” He points the big painting on the wall with his head, “it’s it the countryside.” 

“It is absolutely stunning.” 

He looks away, but he’s smiling a bit. “Your turn.”

“When I was in college, I used to be a photographer… of nudes for a local magazine.” I say, my cheeks already turning bright red. 

He almost chokes on his pasta, “What?!” 

“I didn’t have tons of money and I had to pay for my studies and the apartment and everything. Someone proposed it to me, and they paid me quite well, so I just did it,” I explain, “but it wasn’t as funny as it sounds, it was mostly embarrassing.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he laughs a little, “Did you ever pose for a pic like that?” 

I scoff, “Your turn.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. “I love books.” 

“That’s not a personal thing.”

“No, I mean that I really, really love books. There aren’t many things that bring me as much joy as reading. Once, I didn’t sleep for two days because I had to read a series that was so, so good.” 

“That’s… cool, I guess. I could do that with movies.” I scoff a laugh. “Mmmmh. I, unlike you, can cook pretty good.” 

“No way.” He says, cocking an eyebrow. 

“When I finally got out of Care Homes, I wanted to practice as many skills as I could, everything I couldn’t do growing up. Penny’s mom taught me many things, like sewing, cooking, gardening. She was quite like a mom to me.” 

His eyes soften, “I didn’t know you grew up in care homes.”

I dismiss the topic, “I don’t want people to know, they start acting weirdly,” I shrug, and he is still looking at me like that, so I snort and I laugh, “No, you can’t look at me like that. Stop it! If you have to pity me for something, do it because I have to be your personal assistant and see you all day, every day.”

He rolls his eyes again, but he is smiling, “It didn’t look like a problem to you when five minutes ago you were moaning in the other room.” 

“I wasn’t… moaning.” I say, my cheeks red again. 

“You were,” he grins, “not that I’m complaining. I love when you do that.” 

My mouth opens in a surprised “o”, but I don’t reply, too busy replaying his words in my head again and again. He loves when I do that. 

“You done?” he asks, pointing at my empty plate and I nod. “Shall we go upstairs?” 

My jaw drops to the floor, but I manage not to pass out. “I am not having sex with you.”

“I didn’t even mention sex,” he says, his voice is quite pissed off. 

I follow him in the other room and we silently climb up the stairs, at some points, he groans, and he grabs my hand when I stumble on my feet, but he doesn’t say anything. I mentally thank my body for being so clumsy.

Turns out that our destination was the roof. There is a tiny, secret gazebo full of Christmas lights; under it there are a table, some chairs and a rocking couch. 

“Wow.” I whisper. It looks like some place out of the cheesiest film ever. 

As I already said, incurable romantic. 

He sits on the couch and I stand there, pretty confused on what to do, looking at him like he might bite. He pulls me down, right against his side. He wraps the both of us in a thick blanket.

“I’m sorry for thinking you had bad intentions with me.” I murmur.

“Oh, I do have bad intentions with you. Just not for tonight.” He shrugs and his statement send goosebumps all over my back. 

We quietly watch New York’s nightlife shining all over us, he kindly plays with my fingers for the whole time (I’m not even sure he knows he is doing it; he looks so caught up in his mind).

“The third thing is that I have some troubles at work at the moment; a lot of shit is going on with my father and I can’t lose the press’ support, but I’d really, really love to see you again. Many, many times. If you’ll let me.” He says after some time, his gaze is far away from here and his voice is hoarse. “Just… We’ll have to keep it private for a while, or I’d lose the company. I’m not happy to ask you this, but it’s all I can offer now.” 

My heart tightens, I let my head fall against his shoulder. “Okay.” I whisper, surprising us both.

“Okay?” he mumbles, like he is totally confused.

“Yes, Mr. Pitch, I’d love to date you.” 

He leaves a tiny, tiny kiss on the top of my head, and then I hear him whisper “Baz.” In my hair. 

I don’t know where we’re going, but if I get to be with the same version of Baz I got to see tonight, I won’t waste any other minute trying to stay away from him. 

Somewhere between him gently playing with my hair and his breath on my cheek, I fell asleep. 

He pats my knee to wake me up, “Snow, wake up, you’ll freeze to death out there, you can sleep here tonight, but inside. You know, with heating and modern comforts.” 

His face his so close that I could just lean out and kiss him, but my body is still too sleepy to do anything. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you, get up.” He says, grabbing my arm. 

We somehow manage not to fall down the stairs, me leaning almost completely against him. 

My brain fully awakes in a split second when we enter his room. Panic flapping in my belly. I look at him with my brow furrowed, but he just shrugs. “I can call David if you wanna go home.” 

“Or,” I say, looking at his absurdly enormous bed, “I could stay.”

He grins at me, but I cut him off before he can make some stupid joke. “Just to sleep.”

“Fine.” He nods, but he makes sure that I see him rolling his eyes. Annoying. “but sex is funnier than sleep, keep that in mind.” 

He gives me sweatpants an old t-shirt with an inscription that says “sometime today Satan”, and I look at him laughing, but he ignores me.

We both change in the bathroom, thankfully, I don’t think I could have bear seeing Baz naked tonight. I wouldn’t be able to sleep after that. 

He turns off the light and lies in bed, facing me, our hands between our chest. Baz fully relaxed, his face half-sunk in the pillow, his hair everywhere, cheeks slightly flushed, is the most beautiful Baz. The most vulnerable one.

He slides his cold (fucking freezing) feet between mine and smile at me, tenderly. It’s the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on his stupid face, his eyes light up in a way that is impossible not to notice. 

Sleep is already taking me away, but I whisper, closing my eyes, “You know, as you’ve been honest, you must know that my third thing is that I eat butter.”

“You are absolutely disgusting, Snow.” He scoffs, but I suddenly feel his lips against mine, kissing me goodnight. 

I could get used to fall asleep like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was already written yesterday, but it sucked, so i rewrote it today. 
> 
> Also, I changed the story from "teen up" to "mature", because i don't really know where border is and I wanted to make sure I didn't cross it somehow. 
> 
> But, I won't write smut. I'd... imply it, let's say, but I definitely won't describe it cause it is faaaar too difficult for my english skills. 
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter :)
> 
> Take care, stay safe x


	10. sunday mornings and crossing lines

BAZ

I always hated mornings. I am one of those folks that could just sleep through the day and stay awake all night long.

I'm not even properly considered a night owl, i'm more like a vampire. If the sun is up, I shall be asleep.

I always, always hated mornings.

But... but.

When I wake up surrounded by a cloud of Snow's smell and his curly hair tickling my chin, i find mornings to be just extremely annoying.

I sink my nose in his hair, breathing deeply in his scent and he moves a little, letting out a sleepy sigh.

He entagles his legs from mine and I immediately feel cold, so I mumble my disapproval for this unfair loss, but he is already getting closer again.

He rolls on top of me and I feel every fucking inch of his body pressed against mine. Suddenly, I am not sure anymore if mornings are, in fact, that bad.

I think he might still be asleep and the thought sends a stroke down my spine. He his hugging me. While he sleep. He is not even aware that he is doing it. He just... Does it, like his body needs to be as close to mine as it can.

But... Not every part of him is actually asleep.

I must think about something else. Like, immediately. Or i'll lose control too and I want to go as slow as possible with Snow; I don't want to ruin everything.

Then, last night comes back to my mind all at once and everything I said hit me like a train.

I did not want to spill the tea, I didn't want to tell him about the problems I have with my father and I definitely didn't want to tell him that I want to date him.

This was supposed to be just something fun, casual; but he was there and he was so beautiful, and my belly wouldn't just calm down and all those weird feelings didn't want to just... disappear.

So I told him the truth, because I am weak and because he is Simon Snow, and I can't think about anything else since the first day I met him.

My parents' company is too important for me and I can't risk losing it, especially not for... feelings. Even if we are talking about feelings this much overwhelming.

But everything that concerns Simon Snow in general is overwhelming.

It's like he has taken control over my whole life and he doesn't even know it. He is so fucking oblivious (and absolutely cute)(i'll never tell him this last bit).

What if he was too tired, barely awake, and didn't really get what I told him? What if this morning, when he wakes up, he realizes what I said and run away?

I don't want him to go away, but maybe it would be for the best. I can't give him what he wants, what he really deserves.

I feel lips pressing against my collarbone, leaving tiny, gentle kisses along my skin. "G'morning." Simon mumbles, his voice so hoarse it makes me shiver.

And just like that, mornings are crossed off the list of "things I hate" and added to the list of "everything I love the most".

"Good morning." I murmur, brushing my lips against the top of his head, his golden hair is everywhere on my face.

I am not really sure where we at. If there are some new lines and if so, where they are. I don't really want to make him run away.

I'd cross every line for him, but only if they are drawn by me. I'd never cross his'.

"Slept well?" he doesn't look up, but I feel one of his hand lean against my cheek, brushing my cheekbone with tenderness.

I don't really know what happens in my belly, but it's a weird feeling.

I nod, even if he can't see me. "Quite well, yes." because I am a liar and I can't tell him that I haven't slept this good since when I left England.

He gave me a little piece of my home back.

I have to know, so I add, "Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"

He stretches his body, not really getting off of me (not that I'm complaining); he stays quiet for a bit, and I think my body might have frozen, cause he leaves a kiss on my chest. "You said you like me."

"I did not said... that." Did I? No, I most likely didn't.

"And I said that I like you back."

"You definitely didn't." He did not. I'd have repeated it in my mind all night long otherwise.

He moves his head and finally - finally - he's looking at me. His eyes are even more blue and annoying than usual and his lips are so close to mine, but still too far, and I might as well die.

"Well, then I am telling you now, I like you." He smiles. My heart tightens, whether it's for his words or the way he is looking at me, I am not sure.

Simon Snow likes me.

"Even if you are a pain in the ass 23 hours per day, Mr. Pitch." He adds and he kisses the top of my nose.

Simon snow likes me and is kissing me.

I am living a charmed life.

"Baz." I just say, because I can't really say it back. I laugh a little and he frowns at me, like he just realized something.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry, I am most certainly crushing you with my weight. Why didn't you tell me? I am sorry." He mumbles and he tries to get off of me, but I wrap both my arms around him as soon as I realize he want to move from me.

He stirs, "No, just..."

"Snow."

He keeps moving, trying to free me from under him. "I'm sorry..."

"Snow."

"I am -"

"Simon." I say and he finally stops, so I kiss the little mole on his cheek and I whisper, "Don't."

"Okay," he relaxes in my arms, "but you'll tell me if i'm hurting you."

You hurt me every time you look away from me, I want to tell him, but I just nod.

"So, what do you want to do today?" I ask and he entagles his fingers together on my chest and rest his chin on them, looking at me like I am some magical creature.

"I don't know," he grins, "what does the boss of a company do on Sunday Mornings?"

I slit my hands under his (mine) pajama and I run a knuckle over his spine; his skin is always so warm, like he is the sun. "I don't know either, but he usually doesn't wake up with a hot chick next to him - or, on top of him."

He laughs, shaking my body with his, "oh, he doesn't? Because he is probably used to one-night stands that he dismisses as soon as they've finished."

Struck and sunk.

"Something like that."

"Then I feel honored that you let me sleep here." He kisses my jaw.

This is getting quite too cheesy, so I just: "well, you didn't give me much choice, you were drooling on my shoulder."

He snorts, "I don't drool. Besides, spending the night here - holy shit! Damn it - fuck!"

"What happened?" I ask, immediately removing my hands from his back. What did I do wrong? Why do i always have to ruin everything? 

He's stretching on me, reaching for the nightstand. "Penny will definitely kill me, I didn't tell her I was staying over, she'll probably think you killed me or something - fuck."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and I cock an eyebrow at him, "Why would I kill you at my place? Do you know how hard it is to take blood off the carpet?"

He rolls his eyes, but he scoffs a laugh. He mutter, "Twenty missed calls. This is bad."

He brings his phone to his hear, but it takes Penny all of two seconds to answer.

I don't really hear what she's saying, but Snow's eyes widens and his face is quite worried, so I kindly roll his other ear's lobe in my fingers. I don't really know what I'm doing, but he looks so worried that I just want him to calm down (even i have no idea how to make that happen).

"Pen, I - no he isn't - would you just -" he tries multiple times to answer, but he is always cut off and his brow furrows even more, so I just take his hand and kiss the top of his fingers. Slowly, tenderly.

His eyes focus on me and soften a little, but his body is still tense against mine.

His cheeks flush brightly red, while he murmurs "We did not."

"Yeah, I'll see you later." He says, after quite some time and closes the call.

"You and I are in troubles." he says and he lets his head fall against me, his forehead against my neck.

"Oh, you have no idea." I grin, "Besides, I can probably handle Bunch, I'm the fucking CEO."

"Yeah, but she won't care about those technicalities if you hurt me." He laughs, "she's a bit protective."

"Good," I say, "if I hurt you, i'll be the first one to let her kick my ass."

He gazes at me, like I said something completely right and then he is kissing me passionately, like his life depends on it.

His tongue plays with mine and his hands are everywhere and for the first time in my life, I let someone else set the pace. I don't have to be in control, I trust him (even if I don't know why).

I kiss him and I kiss him and I kiss him, till my mouth is soar and we're both out of breath. When our lips part, I rest my forehead against his and he rubs the top of his nose against mine.

This is all so weird and new and i'm completely out of my comfort zone; this is quite terrifying, but somehow it also feels right at the same time.

Something inside me finds his place, like there was something that never felt right and suddenly... it does.

And then, Simon Snow is leaving trails of kisses along my face and the only thing I can think about is how much I love mornings.

I can get used to wake up next to Simon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i didn't die! i'm sorry for being late with this chapter, but i had an exam this morning, so i was kinda busy (still, i'm sorry)
> 
> It's the first chapter with Baz's POV, I hope I didn't screw it (because i love Baz soooo much). I find much easier Simon's POV because my personality is like 80% Simon, so i just really write what I'd do if it were me, but I'm nothing like Baz (sadly). 
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> If you have prompts, questions or just need someone to talk to, i'm @lovi-ngbooks on tumblr. See you there! 
> 
> Take care x


	11. trading coffee and watching cartoons

SIMON  
“So… I guess Penny knows.” I say, when I get in the kitchen after taking a shower (Baz jokingly offered to help me)(but I’m not really ready for… that, even if this morning we were pretty close to lose our pyjamas). Baz is facing the kitchen counter, so I’d probably notice if he were upset by my statement, but he doesn’t look bothered at all. 

“She’s your roommate, it’s probably for the best, since you won’t sleep at your place often.” He shrugs, pouring the tea. 

“And why wouldn’t I?” I tease him and I sit on one of the stools.

“Because you’ll stay with me.” He replies simply, placing one of the mugs in front of me. 

“You know, you could ask me politely, Mr. Pitch.” 

He rolls his eyes, but as soon as he looks at me, his eyes land on my wet hair and his eyes get way darker. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why? I guess our bet isn’t on anymore, as we would both be in credit of at least one thousand kisses after this morning.” 

“Shut up, Snow.” He snaps, but his cheeks are literally turning bright red, so I know he isn’t pissed off (to be honest, he is probably thinking about this morning)(as I am).

“As I’ll probably,” I say, emphasizing the last word, “spend a few nights here, you should buy coffee, I am not really a tea person.” 

“You are British, for God’s sake. Behave as one.” He snorts, sitting beside me. 

“You know, this is the most stereotypical thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

His knee brush against mine casually, but it’s enough to make me shiver. My body really doesn’t work properly whenever Baz is in the room. 

“Whatever,” he says, taking a sip to prove his point, “but I won’t let that poison you drink anywhere near my house.”

“I bet I can convince you.” I murmur. 

“I bet you cannot.” He scoffs a laugh. He is as beautiful as ever in is morning look: his hair is messy, his lips still brightly pink from all the kissing, and he is wearing some sweatpants, not the usual suit and tie. He is a work of art like this (even though I can’t stop thinking about him in those jeans).

“Then we have a deal.” I smile and he nods. I take a sip from my mug and lean my hand on his thigh, as casually as I can manage. I am not really good at playing these games, but I sure as hell will try, because the look he glances me is totally worth it. 

“You know, you can’t trade sex for coffee, it doesn’t work like that.” He rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds quite unsure, like he is about to break (and push me against the counter kissing me senseless). 

I brush my fingers all along his thigh, higher and higher, and he swallows loudly. I think I’ll have my coffee after all. “You didn’t exactly set ground rules, so if I want to something like this,” I say, leaning two fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, “I can.” 

He leans out to kiss me, but I turn my head at the last second and he ends up kissing my cheek. “Oh, sorry! But I won’t trade sex for coffee, someone suggested me not to.” I laugh and he groans, but his disappointment lasts very little, as he starts to kiss my neck almost immediately. 

He is standing between my legs, kissing and biting my skin, as he did that time at the exhibit. I let out a soft moan, but I don’t really care anymore, because I found out that every time I moan, he kisses me more passionately.

I run my fingers through his hair and – as always – he rewards me with a little moan of his own. I love the fact that I am beginning to know him, and I mean really know him. 

“Still no coffee for you, but at least now everybody will know that you are taken.” He murmurs in my ear and he looks at me with a dumb smile. Something flaps in my belly. 

“I don’t think my boss would appreciate it, if I’d go to work with a giant mark on my neck.” I laugh, brushing a finger along the now-soft skin exhausted by his kisses. 

“I think your boss will very much appreciate looking at it during boring meetings, as a reminder of what he’ll get to do when he gets back home.” He smiles and he’s made of troubles.

“For the hundredth time, I’m not moving here,” I roll my eyes at him, “We’ve seen each other for like two days, I may impulsive, but not that much.” 

“I’m just saying that there would be advantages for the both of us.” He cocks an eyebrow and I cut him off.

“This is not work nor business, this is like… a relationship, not something you can administer as you like.” 

He steps back a little, “This is not a relationship, Snow.” 

I almost fall of the stool, “Just to be clear, you basically want me to stay in your house as much as I’d like, kiss you and make out with you, but you don’t want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Exactly,” he nods, his eyes as serious as ever, “relationships take too much time and I have work to do.” 

“So, what am I, your bitch?” I snap back, getting on my feet, ready to leave (or slap him, for the matter). 

“No,” he says, and his face soften a bit, “you are someone I go out with, but I can’t be in a relationship. My work is too important for me, I won’t just give it up for someone, not even you.”

“I am not asking you to.” I say and I walk away, willing to take my stuff and leave. He predictably follows me. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice is a bit hoarse, but I don’t stop. 

“Home.” I say, grabbing my clothes from his room and slapping the bathroom door behind me. I am almost worried that he’ll come in anyway, but he doesn’t. I change in silence. I can clearly see the mark on my neck in the mirror and I try so hard to ignore it and all the feelings it brings to life in my belly.

Stupid, stupid me. What was I thinking? He said he wanted to go out with me, but he never said he wanted to date me. 

I am not asking for a ring; I’m just asking for commitment. Is that too much to ask?

“I am trying, Simon.” He says, from the other side of the door. His voice sounds exhausted, but he’s probably just making it up. He is used to have everything he wants; I should have seen this coming. 

“You are not trying hard enough.” I snort, buttoning my shirt. I don’t even know if I’m angry or sad. Probably both. And he called me Simon, asshole.

“I told you I just have one-night stands, I’m not used to…this. This is new, different.” I swear I can hear him sigh.

I have no idea how we ended up arguing, after what we’ve done just earlier this morning. 

“If you just want to have sex and then we’re done, you’ve picked the wrong guy. I can’t and won’t do that.” 

“No, I told you I want to go out with you.” 

I open the door without notice and he almost falls, because he was leaning against it, but he recovers immediately. Annoying. Stupid, perfect Baz. I’d probably crashed down like a sack of potatoes. “But you won’t be in a relationship with me.”

He nods, looking at me with big, sad eyes. “I am sorry,” he mumbles, like this is something he never said before in his entire life, “I can give you just… me. Nothing else.” 

Suddenly, he looks like he has way more years weighting on his shoulders than just his twenty-five years. He looks so fragile, but still so in control, like he can’t really let his walls fall down. 

I sigh, “Fine,” I concede, “but I won’t have sex with you till I am sure that it isn’t just all you’re after.” I don’t even know why I’m doing this, because my brain is screaming “Run!”, but my heart refuses to leave. Looking at him hurt, but not being able to look at him would probably hurt even more.

What sort of spell did he cast on me?

He cocks an eyebrow, “If I just wanted sex, I wouldn’t bother with all the troubles you’re giving me.” 

I can’t help but scoff a laugh, “And you’ll buy me coffee.” 

“Fair enough.” He says and he offers me his hand. I grab it, because I’m still weak.

Maybe I am confused about this whole situation, but I am pretty sure that Baz is more confused than me. Maybe he just need time and maybe – just maybe – I can wait while he figures this out and stay with him in the process. 

“So, what do we do?” I ask, following him in the living room. 

He shrugs, way too caught up in his own thoughts, so I squeeze his hand to catch his attention and I repeat my question. “As you took sex off the plate, I suggest we watch a movie.”

I roll my eyes, but there is just a tiny shadow of a smile on his lips that makes me step closer to him, “I pick.” I say and falling onto the couch and grabbing the remote controller. “What do you say about…” I hum, thinking about the movie that he’ll hate most, “Hotel Transylvania?” 

He sits beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him, “What are you, like twelve?” 

“Maybe, but you have to suffer a bit if you want me to forgive you for being an ass.” I giggle against his chest, “So, Hotel Transylvania.”

“Fine.” He agrees, but he ends up typing at his phone for the first half an hour of the movie, so I pinch his hip, giving him an annoyed look. 

“Are you watching the movie or not?”

“I have work to do, I’m not exactly playing Tetris, I’m sending mails, you know.” He rolls his eyes and I move a little back to watch his face.

“Not on Sunday, not when you’re with me.” I’m not trying to be needy or anything, but I just want him to be a normal 25 years old for two hours, laughing with me at a stupid movie. 

“See? This is exactly what I was talking about, that’s why I cannot have a relationship.” He snaps back, but when he realizes that he said it out loud, he looks at me like I’m about to have a breakdown. 

“Whatever.” I say. I don’t have more energy to argue, so I just lean my back against the couch, leaving a few inches between us. 

He sighs (and it’s almost enough to beg his pardon, even if I’ve done nothing wrong, but he looks so sad and tired that I just want him to feel better). He wraps his arms around me, and he pulls me on his lap, “Come here, I didn’t mean to. I’ll watch the movie.” His phone forgotten on the pillows. 

I rest my head against his chest, “Thank you.” I murmur and I focus again on the movie, but it’s quite hard with him rubbing circles with his thumb on the skin under my shirt.

If I have to be honest, I love watching cartoons, because I almost never had the chance to watch them while growing up in care homes. Hotel Transylvania is one of my favourite movies, because it’s extremely funny and because I love vampires. Baz seems to be enjoying it too, because he even laughs from time to time. 

“Snow.” he says in my ear and he tightens the grip on my hips.

“Mh?”

“Stop moving.” He murmurs in my ear and I immediately freeze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was hurting you.” I say, trying to get off of him, but he doesn't let me.

I can totally hear his grin in his voice, “You are doing quite the opposite, really.”

Oh. “Oh.” I mumble, my cheeks turn bright red in a fraction of second. I don’t really know what to say, so I drop it, trying not to move anymore, but now I can’t really think about anything else. Thank you very much, Baz. 

He laughs like he knows exactly what he’s doing and he leave a kiss on the top of my head. When he does things like this, I swear it feels like this whatever-it-it between us can be really simple. 

When the movie ends, I turn around to face him and his eyes are quite shiny, like he is touched by the ending. 

“That was… quite good.” He says, clearing his throat. 

I cup his cheeks with my hands and I smile at him. He is just one breath away and I murmur, our noses almost brushing together, “Blah blah blah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note for all those who have never seen Hotel Transylvania: "Blah blah blah" is something they say to the vampire in the movie! (also, go and watch it!)
> 
> This chapter was literally fluff and angst + domestic snowbaz, and I'm not even sorry! 
> 
> I love these two morons so much! And I love y'all, thanks for all the kind comments, really mean a lot to me... 
> 
> I want to start writing prompts and oneshots, so if you have any, I'll write all the snowbaz fluff you want on tumblr @lovi-ngbooks :)
> 
> Take care and have a great day! x


	12. Chosen One and Family Business

SIMON

Coming back home is absolutely creepy, because Penny is shooting me a killing glance from the couch.

"Hi." I say casually, taking off my jacket. It's past midnight and she probably thought that I was staying at Baz's for the night (which I would, because we were so kissing and cuddling that I probably melt at some point, but I don't want to give away too much too soon, so I asked him to call David and bring me home)(he literally kissed me goodnight in the car. In front of David. I was so shocked that I stood there frozen for a bunch of seconds).

My cheeks go from slightly pink to bright red when she shouts, "Is that a new hickey?!"

"No... Yes?" I mumble, brushing it with my fingers. "Maybe. I won't deny nor confirm anything until my lawyer is here." If she saw my body, she probably would be freaking out (let's just say that there are more inches of my chest with hickeys than not).

"You are an idiot," she snorts, then she pats the couch, "Come here, I won't a detailed description of everything."

I laugh and sit next to her. "Forgive me for not calling you yesterday?"

"Only if the story is good." She says and I laugh again.

"Trust me, it was!" I reply and I start telling her what happened. Not really all the kissing and touching, but what we said (I don't really think that she wants those details anyway).

"The fact that he doesn't want a relationship is absolute crap. Bullshit. You deserve way better."

"I think that maybe he just need time." I shrug.

"Maybe, but don't let him always get away after fucking things up. Know your worth." She says, squeezing my wrist. "Let's go to bed, c'mon."

She gives me a weird glance before disappearing in her room and I don't really know how to interpret it.  
-  
"I'm just saying that it would be super awkward if you two fucked in his office. I mean, wooden walls are not that thick."

"For the hundredth time, we are definitely not fucking in his office, not today nor never." I murmur to Penny exiting the elevator, trying to keep it between us and not make anyone hear this.

"Oh." She says, looking in front of her, "you are definitely not fucking in his office."

I frown at her, but then I notice what she's looking at. My desk. Removed from Baz's office and back at his place in front of Penny's. "What the fuck?"

"C'mon, Si. I don't think that's that big of a deal, at least you are back next to me and -"

I don't hear the rest of her statement, because I am literally marching toward Baz's office. His door is closed, but I don't even bother to knock, after all I’m his personal assistant (and not just that, obviously).

"What the -" I snap entering the room, but I freeze as soon as my eyes land on a much older and much creepier version of Baz. "Oh. Good morning."

"Sounds like American don't really know good manners, you'd already be fired if you worked in my London's Office." he says coldly.

Baz is looking at me like he wants to kill me in a very slow and very painful way, his face is extremely pale, and he keeps looking between me and the man. It seems that he's waiting for the room to explode in front of his eyes.

Still looking at me, Baz says, very slowly, "He is just an intern, he'll learn how to behave eventually."

The man turns from me and looks again at Baz, they are sitting one in front of the other at the sides of Baz's desk. The weird thing is, that Baz is sitting at his usual place, but it looks like that should be the other man's place.

If Baz is always so proud and tough everywhere he goes, making all the people around him look so small, now he looks just like... A 25 years old guy. His "I'm better than anyone else" look has completely disappeared from his face.

The shock of this situation can't still erase the fact the he literally called me "just an intern".

I clear my throat, tilting my chin up, "I'm not American, sir. And I’m his personal assistant, too." I don't really know why I say that, but I needed to make people know that I am much more to him that he can tell (even if I am not really talking about work).

If glances could kill, I'd already be a corpse on the floor of this fancy office. I'm still unsure whether the killer would be Baz or the man, anyways.

"My name is Malcolm Grimm." He says.

Oh. So he is not just the boss, he is The Boss. Like the emperor of the Pitch Ink.

I suddenly struggle to find the words, so I nod. I am sure that my cheeks are already betraying me. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Grimm. I'm-"

"Busy. He is busy, so he'll just leave now." Baz interrupts me. Even someone like me get a hint like this.

"Yeah, em. Work, very busy. Goodbye." I mumble, reaching the door.

It's Monday Morning and I already messed up.

This will be a long week.

Penny looks at me with her brow furrowed when I sit at my desk. "So?"

"His dad is in there." I sigh, "I sense that I am quite in troubles after entering his office swearing."

"You've done worse." Penny laughs.

"I know! But they don't." I snort, running my hand through my curly hair.

"I feel like Baz will find out soon that mess and drama are your natural habitat."

"Sadly, I agree with you." I say, opening my laptop.

"Did you have a chance to ask him about our article, anyways?"

I shake my head, "Nope. This morning his office was kinda too crowded and this weekend we've been busy."

"Yeah, sure. Busy." She rolls her eyes.

"I'll ask him soon or later, don't worry."

"I'm not in a hurry, I really enjoy being an intern." She snorts sarcastically.

Turns out that Penny and I weren’t the only one who didn’t know The Boss was coming to our office today; Baz and Fiona themselves found out earlier this morning, when he arrived at the airport. 

To be honest, now I can see why Baz has problems with his dad. He is so cold and untouchable, he gives me anxiety. Still, I wish he didn’t treat me like a Mr. Nobody when I got in his office. I am not saying that he should have kissed me or something, just that he could’ve not described me as “just an intern”. 

Baz and his dad disappear from the building with Fiona at around lunch and we don’t see them for the rest of the day, which is kinda weird, but who am I to judge as I am just an intern?

Stupid Baz. 

It’s not even 24 hours since he last kissed me (in front of David!) and he didn’t even glance at me when he left. Which okay, but still. I think I might miss him or something, because my belly won’t just calm the fuck down. 

Stupid, perfect Baz. With his stupid, perfect lips and his stupid, perfect hair. 

Penny and I order take-away Chinese food for dinner and drown our feelings in it. She’s angry at her family because they are visiting New York at Christmas and we’ll have to spend the day with them (even if, to be honest, I am kinda happy about this, because it will be like having a Christmas Family Dinner)(even if it’s not my real family, they are still the closest thing I have to one and I really love them); and I am angry at Baz, because he hasn’t wrote to me, called me or showed up at my place’s as I hoped he would do. 

Okay, maybe I am being a little dramatic, but I just really want to talk to him (and kiss him)(many times). 

Tonight is Penny’s turn to choose the movie and she picks The Fellowship of the Ring, which is a perfect choice for me, because it is one of my favourite movies. It doesn’t really matter one many times I watch it, I’ll still cry when Frodo saves Sam from drawing. 

“Pss, Penny.” I murmur, throwing a popcorn at her. 

“What?” 

“I think you are my Frodo.” 

She dramatically rolls her eyes at me, but she’s smiling, “Let’s be honest, Simon. If we were books characters, you would be the Hero and I would be the sidekick. An extraordinary, super intelligent sidekick, but still. So I am your Sam.” 

“Are you saying that I’d be the Chosen One?” I laugh. “What are you talking about? I’d screw up and ruin everything as always. I’d literally make a bigger mess of whatever.” 

“I don’t think you would, Si. You are pretty awesome, you know.” She smiles at me, tenderly. “Anyways, I’m probably the Hermione to your Harry Potter. Without me you would’ve died in within the first hundredth pages or so.” 

“Agreed.” I laugh back and I focus again on the movie. 

It’s not only I’m in my little, comfy bed that my phone rings. I groan, I was almost asleep. Damn it. 

“Sup?” I mumble, bringing the phone to my ear.

“You know, your sleepy voice is extremely hot.” Baz says from the other side. His voice makes me shiver and I am suddenly fully awake. So, he did call me, after all. 

“Baz, uh. Hi.” 

“Did I wake you?”

I check the time on the clock on my nightstand: 2:14 am. “No, is everything okay?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice for a bit.” He says and then he goes silent, as if he didn’t want to say it out loud. 

I decide to drop it, I don’t want him to be embarrass him, even if my heart is singing ‘he missed you, he missed you’. “How did it go with your dad?”

He groans, “He’s staying here for a whole week, I might get crazy. What if I cam and picked you up? I want you to sleep here tonight.” 

“With your dad in the house?” I ask, my brow furrowed, even if he can’t see me. 

I hear him snorts, “Nope, you silly. He’s staying at LUMA hotel. What do you say?”

“We gotta work tomorrow and I need to sleep. Also, I don’t wanna wake Penny to tell her I’m leaving.” I reply, but the truth is I’d really love to go. 

“It’s not like your boss will kick you for being sleepy at work tomorrow, you know.”

I scoff a laugh, “Yeah, but his dad might.” 

“True.” He says and a long pause follows. 

“So… just an intern, huh?” I say (and I am suddenly afraid that I might have crossed some lines).

“Just… drop it, okay? You know it didn’t mean anything.” His voice sounds exhausted and far far away, lost somewhere.

“I miss you too, anyway.” I add after a while, but he doesn’t answer. “Stay on the phone till I fall asleep again?” 

“What are we, like twelve?” he snaps back, but he doesn’t end the call. 

That’s how I end up falling asleep listening to Baz low and steady breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and it definitely sucks.  
> I'm sorry, I had a super bad day and I just wanted to write to take my mind off of stuff, but it probably wasn't a good idea after all, seeing how this turned out.
> 
> I hope you are all in a good place! Take care x


	13. weird week and goodbye kiss

SIMON

The week is extremely weird, because the time I get to spend alone with Baz is very little and every time he succeeds in making it happen, I barely have time to say hello that he’s pushing me against the wall, the desk, on the couch in his office – with an hungry groan. 

It's like his father’s presence in New York has casted a dry spell on us – or, to be more precise, he just took away all of our alone time and all we have left are stolen moments during the day. I haven’t been at Baz’s all week; he asked me a couple of times, but then something kept us from seeing each other. Mostly, it was his father pretending to be escorted here and there by his son. 

At first, it was kinda funny seeing Baz struggling not to look at me during meetings and not getting closer to me as soon as we were alone, so it became a game for me. Every time I get the chance to, I tease him. I brush my fingers against his at the buffet, I lean too closer to him when I bring him his coffee, I bump my foot with his when we are in our way to meetings. 

I just can’t help it, because after these little “incidents” (as I keep calling them whenever he goes like “and what do you think you are doing?”), he’s just hungrier for me. Not exactly right after them, because he always tries to be though and not shows that he really wants – needs – to kiss me there and then, so he just acts like he doesn’t care. I must say, it’s pretty funny how he already needs to kiss me all the time. After a while, usually near the end of the day, there’s an exquisite exasperation on his face that tells me he is about to break. He lasts about another hour, in which he becomes really rude and moody, being grumpy as he claws for the last threats of his willpower; and then he gives up and calls me in his office to kiss me senseless. 

I know I know, I am such a tease. 

“Father leaves tomorrow afternoon,” his breath is hard as I kiss his jaw, his hands are all stuck in my curly hair, pulling a little. “So you are staying at my place tomorrow night.” 

I don’t move back till I find the spot that makes him moan and pull my hair harder, then I look at him. “I would – even if you’d have to ask me more gently, Mr. Pitch – but tomorrow is Wine Saturday and I’m busy with Penny and some friends.” 

I’m sitting on his desk and he’s standing between my legs, his perfectly ironed shirt is not so perfect anymore and let’s ignore his suit, that flew on the floor around thirty minutes ago.

He bites my bottom lip, because, apparently, I am not the only tease here, and I lean on him to kiss him, but he steps back a little. “Tell them you can’t and come home with me.” 

The way his eyes are locked into mine, bright and full of hope (and desire), almost makes me nod, but I shake my head instead. “We’ve never, ever cancelled a Wine Saturday since first year of college, not even when Sam broke his arm; we literally brought the wine to the hospital. So, I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“But last weekend you were at my place.” He cocks his eyebrows, “And who’s Sam?”

I dismiss his last question with a shrug, “Wine Saturdays happen the first Saturday of every month.” 

“Mmh… And who’s Sam?” he repeats and the suspiciousness in his voice irritates me. 

“A friend, we met in college.” 

He kisses me hard on the lips, like he’s trying to prove a point, but I can’t really force myself to care when he’s holding me like this. 

“Can’t I come with you?” he asks after a while, out of breath, with his forehead against mine. 

I won’t ever admit it to him, but I love the fact that every time we stop kissing, he does this cute little thing where he leans his forehead against mine and one of his hands tenderly lands on the side of my neck. It’s like his body needs to stop kissing me to breath, but he doesn’t really want to let go of me, so he just keeps me there, pressed against him. 

His question catches me off guard. “What? Like being together… in public? Like, as a couple? You do understand that there would be uhm other human beings with us?” 

“Yes, Snow. I understand the meaning of evening with friends. If there are just a few of your friends, I think I can come.” He snaps, rolling his eyes at me. “And we are not a couple.”

I don’t have the willpower to argue about the last point right now, so I just drop it. 

“But…” I mumble; I don’t know if I’m more shocked by him wanting to meet my friends or by the fact that I have to tell him not to come, because it’s our thing and they’d probably kill me if I wanted him. Baz isn’t exactly friendly and he’d probably be moody and cold all night long… I mean, I can handle his temper but I’m not sure my friends would want him there. “That’s just a small thing at my place and it’s always been just us. I don’t think it’s a good idea that – “ 

He cuts me off by biting my bottom lip again and I shiver. His perfume is intoxicating me and I can barely think. “I’ll be there at seven.” He says, with an evil grin on his face. 

“Don’t-“ I hear a knock on the door and I jump off the desk so fast that I stumble on Baz feet and I run to the couch, where I left my computer. I didn’t even know I could be so fast, I’m not exactly the athletic type. Baz is running a hand through his hair to style it back and smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. I wonder what he can do about the bright red lips and cheeks, but I don’t have time to worry about it; as soon as I land on the couch, someone opens the door. 

“Are you ready, Baz? Malcolm is about to arrive.” Fiona snorts from the other, like she’s already pissed off. She’s furiously typing at her phone and she hasn’t looked at us yet. 

Baz clears his throat and nods, “Yes, I’ll be in your office in a minute. I just have to give Simon some details about Monday’s meeting to arrange the documents.” 

Her eyes lands on him and then on me, like she just noticed I’m here too. “Yeah, sure. The meeting.” She grins, rolling her eyes. I feel my cheeks turn bright red and I focus again on my laptop (that to be honest is off, but she doesn’t know that). It’s almost creepy how much her grin and Baz’s are alike. “You have like, five minutes. And, please, change your shirt or your father will freak out. The secret is discretion, Baz. We talked about this.” 

Baz tilts his chin up, “See you in five.” He dismisses her, rolling his eyes. 

As soon as the door closes, I look at Baz with wide eyes. “She knows?” I ask in disbelief. 

“She definitely thinks she knows.” He says, rolling his eyes. 

“But… does she knows you’re… you know…” 

“Gay?” he laughs ironically, “Yes, she does. I told my family when I was like seventeen.” 

“Then I don’t understand where is the problem about you being with me.” 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it, just drop it.” He says, cocking an eyebrow. “And we are not a couple.”

Every time he tells me this, something in me crash to the ground in a million pieces. “Whatever.”

His eyes soften a bit, as he looks at the hickey on my neck. “I like it, so everybody knows you’re mine.” 

“Yeah, I’m yours but you’re not mine and this is not even a relationship, am I right?”

“Isn’t being mine enough?” he asks, his brow furrowed, like he’s genuinely confused. 

“No, it’s not.” I shrug. I don’t really want to fight, but I’m working on expressing my feelings and this is how I feel (my therapist would be proud of me right now).

“You know I can’t have a relationship.” His voice is hoarse, but his expression his soft and I know he really think what he is saying and he’s not saying it to hurt me.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Work.” I snort, shaking my hand in the air to dismiss the topic. He suddenly starts to unbutton his shirt. “What are you doing?” I ask, with wide eyes.

“I am not stripteasing for you, Snow. Relax.” He says with a smirk, “Not yet, anyway. I just have to change my shirt.” 

“I am so not complaining about this.” I say, following him with my eyes, because I am shameless. And because Baz is a work of art and it would be a waste not to look at him. 

“Yeah, liking the show. I’ve noticed.” He rolls his eyes, but his lips are curled in a little smile. His shirt drops to the floor and I just stare at how perfect the body of this man is. 

In another life he could have been a Greek hero. Maybe he is in this one too and I just haven’t found out yet, who knows. 

Unfortunately, he is already wearing the spare shirt, so the show really lasts too little. “We could think about this striptease thing again sometimes.” I mumble. Why can’t I just shut up and don’t embarrass myself?

“We’ll see.” He shrugs, checking himself in the big mirror on the wall next to the door. I bite down a smile. “You better get going, Fiona wasn’t joking about the five minutes.” 

I stand up from the couch and I pick up my computer, “Alright.” I reach for the door, but when my hand is on the door handle, I feel his arms wrapped tightly around me. 

“Not gonna kiss me goodbye?” he says, rubbing his nose in the crook of my neck. 

I smile and I turn my head to him, “What, you already miss me?” 

“Shut up, Snow.” And then he shuts me up in the only way he discovered to actually work: he kisses me. 

“Gotta go,” I murmur on his lips, “Wouldn’t want to ruin this shirt too.” 

When I get out, he smiles at me, “See you tomorrow at seven!” he says and closes me out of his office before I can tell me not to show up. 

Fuck it. How will I explain it to Penny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you believe me if i told you that the most difficult thing for me is pick the titles of the chapter? Ugh.
> 
> Next chapter was a rollercoaster to write, lol   
> It will probably be up tomorrow (I hope!)
> 
> How are y'all coping with life today?  
> I'm Ross Geller: I'm totally fine and I'm making Fajitas. 
> 
> Take care, stay safe (and wear your mask!!) x


	14. Cheap-ass Wine and Worlds Colliding

SIMON

I panicked.

I still haven’t told Penny that Baz is coming to our place at 7 and it’s 5 pm. I panicked, she was all like “this week sucked and I really need a night off of work” and “I don’t wanna think about Pitch Ink for another second till Monday”. How was I supposed to tell her? I’m literally bringing a Pitch at dinner. At least she spent all Saturday till now without worrying about him.

My heart did something funny when Baz sent me a pic of a wool sweater, asking if it was okay for tonight or if he needed to be more elegant. Considering that my friends will probably be wearing tees and jeans, he'll still be the most elegant one, but I just really want to see him wearing it, so I text thumbs up back. Sometimes I think that Baz literally behaves like someone who has never been in love and has to improvise. I'm not saying that he is in love with me (because he isn't), but just that sometimes he looks like a normal guy and not a fucking 25 years old CEO.

My big chance arrives when Penny tells me to set the table.

“I know you suck at Math, but after like five years of Wine Saturdays, one would think you’d learn that we are five.” She says sarcastically, pinching my arm.

“Yeah… I have the feeling that we’ll be six this time.” I murmur. To be honest, I hope she doesn’t hear me or drop it, but unfortunately she doesn’t.

She shoots me a look, “What are you talking about?”

I open and close my mouth a few times, but no sound comes out. I don't really know how to tell her... Hey, Pen. I invited a person you don't really like to our friends night, please don't kill me as i have no idea what i'm doing. 

She puts her hands over her mouth, in shock. “Oh my god, Simon. Tell me you didn’t!”

“I did what?” I ask, but I know she already knows (I don’t really know how, but still).

“Invite Baz at our Wine Saturday! What were you thinking?!” she slaps my arm; she’s probably trying to find out if looks can really kill.

“I didn’t exactly invite him, he just decided to come.” I shrug, stepping back a little in case she wants to punch me again.

"At what time will he be here?" 

"He said seven, but as he is a posh, he'll probably be here at like 6:45." I snort.

"Oh my God," she pinches her nose, her eyes squeezed tightly. "this is going to be such a mess."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's not really like I have any sort of control over him anyway." I shrug, realizing just how much my last statement is true. 

"You'll be the one to tell them, I don't wanna be blamed for this," she says. then she adds with a laugh, "I think tonight will be very interesting." 

"That's not exactly the word I'd use, but that will do too." I shake my head, laughing a little, "Maybe he'll bring super posh and expensive champagne." 

Wine Saturdays are very easy nights; we just eat whatever Penny and I cooked (more I than Penny), we eat super cheap wine and we watch as many movies as we can before we all fall asleep on the couch. It's not like Penny and I have tons of friends (who would've guessed), but the few we have are amazing. 

We hear the front door fly open and a deafening chorus of voices enter our apartament. 

"They're here." I laugh, placing the last things on the table. "Hello!"

"Guys, you won't believe this! Matt bought that Rosé wine again, I mean. That disgusting, cheap-ass one." Sam shouts, letting himself fall on a chair at the table. 

Sam is a total nerd. He’s able to stay on the couch and play with videogames all day long, but he’s actually a hard worker when he has stuff to do: he’s an engineer, which is pretty cool. He’s openly gay, he was the first one I came out as Bi to; not because he’s my best friend (that would be Penny), but because I thought he’d understood what I was going through better than the others would do (he did).

"Yeah, we'll die dehydrated tonight, poor us." Elly echoes him. She smiles brightly at us and she hugs Penny and then me, "How are you guys doing?" 

Elly is the sweetest soul I’ve ever met, she’s definitely one of the persons who makes everyone feels comfortable in every situation; that’s probably why she’s a psychologist. But don’t judge her by her bright smile that says “angel”, because she’s actually a badass. She could kick anyone ass, if they pissed her off. 

"Oh, fine. You'll figure we have tons of news." Penny says glancing at me with a smirk on her face. 

"I swear it was the only wine left. Besides, I like it." Matt says, entering the room with a dramatic sigh. 

And here he is, Matt. He is a lawyer and he can’t live any moment of his life without analysing everything with logic. He’s a total nerd, too. Once we’ve stayed up for 30 hours together to do a Doctor Who marathon, he was the only one to make it to the end awake (Sam was the first one to fall asleep).

I have to say, I have the best group of friends anyone ever had. 

"The only wine left in all the State of New York?" Sam laughs, throwing some bread at him. 

“What news were you talking about, Pen?” Elly asks, sitting next to Sam. 

“Wait, wait, wait… Who is this plate for?” asks Matt, looking suspiciously at me. 

“Well, uhm… I am seeing someone, and I might ah – invited him over tonight? I did not exactly… Anyway, he’s coming here, tonight. I mean, in like ten minutes, probably?” I mumble, looking at my shoes that are suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. 

“Not someone, our boss.” Penny adds, crossing her arms over her chest. 

They have three different reactions and I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. Elly is smiling, Matt has his brow furrowed and Sam’s mouth is open in a surprised O. 

“Yeah, that too.” I nod, like it’s just a little detail that I forgot (as if I could ever forget something about Baz). “He’s a bit…” 

“Terrifying.” Penny ends my sentence, with a dramatic sigh. 

“And hot. Super, super hot. But we want to keep this…” Relationship. “thing private, so you just can’t tell anybody that we’re dating.” I shrug.  
We both stare at our friends, but they don’t have time to answer, because someone knocks at the door and we all freeze. I look at the clock on the wall, it says 6:45. I was damn right!

“Shouldn’t you like… Let him in?” Matt says, pointing at the entrance with his thumb.

“Oh? Ah, uhm. Yeah, sure.” I walk to the door and I take a deep breath before opening it. 

And here he is, the most beautiful man alive, standing at my door with bright red cheeks for the cold air of December and a bottle of only-God-knows-how-much-expensive wine. “Hi.” He says, with the tiniest smile on his lips. 

My brain is still a little in tilt, too occupied drinking in his beauty, but I manage to say, “Hello.”

“Won’t you let me in?” he laughs, and I step back a little. He hands me the wine and takes his coat off, hanging it on the wall. I was damn right about this too, he’s super-hot in this sweater. 

He turns to me, with a dumb smile on his lips and when I don’t say anything, he steps closer. “Hi.” He says again and it makes me laugh. 

I slide a finger in one of his belt loops and I pull him even closer, “Can I kiss you even if we are in a house full of strangers?” I murmur. They are not strangers, not really, not for me; but I want him to be comfortable and I won’t do it if he tells no.

He doesn’t say anything, he just closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me full on the mouth. This is not a hungry kiss or a passionate kiss; it’s just him telling me that he missed me, and me telling him that I’m glad he came here despite the fact that I told him not to. 

He brushes his nose against mine, before freeing my body from his grip. “So, what are the plans for tonight?” 

“Just tons of food and movies! Think you can manage being a normal human being for one night and not worry about work or anything?” I say, but I’m already feeling like an idiot, because I think I might’ve already ruined the mood. 

He rolls his eyes, but he grabs my hand and intertwine our fingers together. “Oh, please, kid. I don’t think you can keep up with my pace.”

“We’ll see, then.” I snort, but I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I am literally leading Baz into my life. This is getting real. He’s about to meet my friends. 

Oh my god! He is about to meet my friends! My super weird and nerd friends! Panic starts to rise in my chest, “Uhm, listen… My friends are like amazing, but they can be overwhelming, so just –“ 

Sam’s voice cut me off, shouting from the other room, “Stop snogging, we’re hungry, come here!”

Baz squeezes my hand to reassure me and I am extremely surprised when he doesn’t let it go when we enter the dining room. Four pairs of eyes lands on my face, Baz’s and then our hands. 

“So, yeah. This is Baz, these are my friends.” I say, with a nod. 

“You are the king of introductions, Simon. Really.” Matt rolls his eyes and then he gets up, offering his hand to Baz, “Hi, I’m Matt, the smart one here.”

Baz shakes his hand with a dumb smile. He’s quite adorable. He doesn’t even have enough time to answer, because Sam is already talking, “Smart one my ass,” he snorts, then he turns to Baz, “I’m Sam! The handshaking is not really my thing, but I’m really happy to finally meet you. We heard tons of things about you in like the last ten minutes.”

Elly elbows his side, but at my surprise, Baz laughs and I stare at him with wide eyes. “Good, so these two didn’t have enough time to discredit me, I am not really as grumpy as Simon describes me.” 

“But you are definitely as hot as they said,” Elly laughs, “I’m the hugger of the group, but for tonight you’re safe, don’t worry.”

“I have a sense that you are the smart one,” Baz smiles at her, “nice to meet you all, sorry for being late.” He really isn’t late, he’s actually fifteen minutes early. “I brought wine, I didn’t really know what Wine Saturdays are, so I improvised.” 

“That looks more expensive than my apartment.” Matt says, eyeing the bottle I just put on the table, then he looks at Baz with puppy eyes, “Can you, like, adopt me?”

“Come, sit! We’re starving!” Sam says sighing. 

“I don’t think I can adopt someone pretty much my age, but I know a good lawyer, I’ll see what I can do.” Baz winks at Matt and sits between me and Elly. His elbow leaning casually against mine for the whole time. 

Penny arrives from the kitchen with the roast we cooked earlier and nods at Baz, who nods back. I don’t really understand what’s going on between these two, but I don’t like feeling under the crossfire all the time. I need to come up with a plan to make them become friends. 

The dinner goes extraordinarily well: the food is delicious and we laugh a lot. Baz is getting along with them better than I could’ve ever imagined and, to be honest, I am little jealous of my friends, because I’ve never seen Baz like this with anyone before. All smile-y and jokes. My purpose in life is now to make him be this version of himself more often.

The wine was absolutely amazing and I don’t think I’ll be able to like our cheap wine anymore (not really, to be honest, cheap wine is the best wine)(but the extremely expensive one comes right after).

Sadly, this month is Elly’s turn to pick a movie and we end up watching Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time. I thought Baz was gonna hate it and maybe be pissed off, but I actually caught him quoting some scenes murmuring softly. 

Another proof that Baz is an incurable romantic. 

We’re sitting next to each other and our bodies are pressed together from shoulder to calves. He’s playing absently with my hands and I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it, but it’s super cute, so I lean my head on his shoulder. 

I might have fallen asleep at some point during the second movie (Little Women. Still Elly’s choice), because I suddenly feel someone pinch my cheek. 

“Wakey, wakey Simon Snow. It’s time to rise and shine, your man needs to get laid after all these cheesy movies.” Sam says, an inch away from my face. 

I groan, “Shut up, Sam, or I’ll get your stupid face laid by my fist.” I am not exactly friendly when I'm just awaken, but my friends know it and I'm not worried that Sam's gonna be offended by my answer. I don’t feel Baz next to me anymore and that’s what makes me stand up from the couch; is he gone home without saying goodbye?

But then I see him, drinking beer with my friends. “How long have I slept?” I ask, standing right behind Baz, who's sitting at the table.

“Long enough for me to find out all your embarrassing college stories.” Baz laughs; he grabs my hands and put them on his shoulders. My heart tightens at how comfortable he is with me touching him in front of my friends. 

“I hate you all.” I groan again and then I notice the photo album on the table, “Oh my God, Penny! You’re such a traitor!” It’s open and I see a pic of my 20th birthday. I was with Agatha and we swiped our clothes: she’s full British-gentleman’s style and fake moustache, I’m wearing a tank top, a miniskirt and make up (and not light make-up, but drag queen-level make up). I closes it as fast as I can. 

“Oh, c’mon. You two were the cutest at the party!” she laughs with a shrug.

“You and Agatha were hot together. Like one of those famous couples you see on magazines.” Sam adds and I just want them to stop talking about Agatha.

“Ugh, for how funny this is, our Lyft is here.” Matt snorts and they all start to get ready to go. 

“I told you I could’ve called David.” Baz says and the expression on his face tells me that he doesn’t want to call it a night yet. The feeling makes me so happy I could kiss him senseless right now. My brain is literally singing 'he likes my friends, he likes my friends and they like him too'.

“Maybe next time,” Elly smiles at him, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “we’ll do something more fun that won’t make your boyfriend sleep through the evening, I swear!”

I can already hear Baz saying ‘he’s not my boyfriend’, but instead he nods, “That sounds perfect.” 

“So, see you guys, we gotta go.” Matt says. He and Sam simply smile at us, patiently waiting for Elly to hug us.

After hugging Penny, it’s my turn. She wraps her arms around me and she murmurs in my ear, “He’s awesome, Simon!” and I try so hard not to blush in front of everyone.

She smiles tenderly at Baz and after a few seconds, Baz snorts in surrender and open his arms, so Elly gets to hug him too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hug anyone and judging from the look on his face, he’s as surprised as me by this whole situation.

When the door closes behind them, I let out a soft yawn. “Imma do the dishes.” 

“Who do you think we are, amateurs?” Penny snorts and at the same time, Baz rolls his eyes saying, “Done it while you were drooling on the couch.” 

“I don’t drool.” Please, tell me I didn’t drool on the couch in front of everyone. In front of Baz.

“You do.” They say in unison and then they burst out laughing. This weird new… bond they have would be totally creepy if it didn’t make me so happy.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.” Penny adds and disappears without another word. 

“Night!” I shout behind her, then I freeze, and I turn around, realizing that Baz is still here and didn’t go home. 

He bumps his shoulder against mine, smiling weirdly at me, “Can I sleep here tonight?” 

“Only if we kiss. Like, a lot of kisses involved. Yeah?” I say and I pull him behind me, till we reach my room. 

As soon as we enter, Baz is pushing me against the door, kissing me like his life depends on it. His hands are almost everywhere and at some point we lose our shirts, even if I’m not sure when and how. My brain is so tired and caught up in Baz’s lips that I can’t really connect anything, but I’m feeling extraordinarily good.

My pyjamas are all a little too short for Baz, so he decides to just sleep in his underwear (I may so not complaining about this) and we entangle ourselves under the sheets.

“So, Agatha huh?” he says after a while. I love how his voice sounds hoarse when he is sleepy.

My belly aches at the question and I’m just too tired to talk about her, so I just say, “It was long time ago.” 

He tenderly kisses the crown of my head, “Your friends are cool.” 

“They liked you, too.” I smile against his chest. 

“How would you know?” ha asks, after a while. 

“I just know.” 

Sleep is already taking over my body, all warm and happy as I am, but before drifting off, I hear Baz’s low voice murmurs, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, Simon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just describe my roommates in this chapter because i needed Penny and Simon to have amazing friends? I did.  
> I literally described them, I didn't even bothered changing their names.
> 
> So, to my roomies: if you'll ever find this fic, know that i'm not even a bit sorry for writing about you! I'll try not to kill you in gruesome ways along the story. kisses <3 
> 
> Here's the thing, I want a big happy family for these lovelies characters and so i gave them mine! I can't yet introduce Agatha and Shepard (from Omaha), so I had to add new characters, lol (don't worry they'll arrive at some point)(Dev and Niall too).
> 
> I hope this is okay with y'all! 
> 
> As promised, I uploaded the chapter today (maybe it's 11:33 pm now, maybe not... who knows!). 
> 
> Take care x


	15. wet kisses and board games

SIMON

Luckily for me, I am one of those persons that wake up extremely early and Baz isn’t, so I get to watch him sleep all curled up against my body. These are the only times I get to see Baz with all his walls down: his eyes are closed lazily and his mouth is soft and not sealed in a hard line.

He looks like someone who doesn’t have a whole industry over his shoulders; he’s just a guy sleeping through a cold Sunday morning with his boyfriend (yeah, I know I know, this is not a relationship and all)(but in my head it is). 

His face is half sunk into the pillow and when I turn my face to his, our noses almost brush. His feet are stuck between my calves and they are fucking freezing, but it is a suffering I am willingly to experience, if the reward is seeing him like this and holding him in my arms. 

A ray of sunshine lands on his light brown skin and makes it golden, sending waves of affection and wonder down my body. I still don’t understand how someone like Baz can be real and not a character out of a book; I understand even less why he’s with someone like me. 

I caress his cheek as lightly as I can, in order to not wake him up. This man is a whole mystery, yet I don’t mind taking my time to solve him. He hums in appreciation, but I don’t think he is awake yet. 

I slide closer to him and I wrap my arms tightly around him, placing my forehead against his, as I like to think he would do if our roles were reversed and I was the one sleeping. Baz is actually very soft and sweet when he wants to be; I keep discovering just how much he is every day.

The fact that he tried so hard to get along with my friends yesterday makes me want to kiss him so bad (I’d want to kiss him anyway, fine, but…). My mind starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he didn’t even try that hard, he just allowed himself to be happy for one night, to be himself without restrictions. To be just a guy for a night. 

If the world makes him hard and grumpy, I want to keep him just for me, where he can be whatever he wants. I’d lock him in my arms and never let him go.

Then what he said last night just before I drifted off hits me. You have bewitched me, body and soul.

What does it mean? Baz, what the hell does it mean?

A mix of panic and happiness bangs in my chest and my breath catches in my throat for a second. 

Obviously, he decides to open his eyes in the exact same second I look extremely shocked and upset, because he is a twat. 

“You’re staring, Snow.” He says; his voice is hoarse and his hot breath against my skin makes me come back to Earth, stop worrying about what he said (and what he didn’t say)(yet).

“I am,” I say and I roll on top of him, running my fingers in his messy hair, “because you are beautiful.” (probably my brain is still a little sleepy, because I have no filters)(but it’s the truth, he is beautiful). 

His cheeks turn bright red in seconds, but he rolls his eyes faking boredom, “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“Well,” I murmur against his lips, pressing my hips against his, “I know, or actually I feel, that you were dreaming about me.”

“Was I?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something else.

“Yes.” I say, pulling his hair back a little. At least, I really, really hope that the dream was about me and not someone else (could it about be me?)

“And what do you intend to do about that?” his breath is suddenly shakier, as I run my hands down his neck and to his chest. 

“I don’t know,” I reply, placing kisses under his jaw, “Should I do something?” 

“If you won’t do anything, I would.” He says, his hands wandering down my back. 

“Always so bossy,” I say and I leave a trail of kisses down his neck, reaching his chest, “so demanding.” 

I am not really good at this but when I feel Baz toes curl like this, I can’t really make myself stop (not that I want to).

I am not exactly new to Baz’s shirtless chest, as this is not the first time we’ve been almost naked in a bed, but I still take my time to appreciate it.

I run my thumb over one of his nipples and I trace his abs with my other hand (because of course he has magnificent abs). “What were you dreaming about?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at me, but it lasts only a second because then I pinch his nipple and his breath catches in his throat; his expression completely changes: eyes shut and lips slightly parted. “Who cares?” 

“I do.” I snort, “I mean, unless you want me to stop…” I sigh dramatically, moving to get off of him. 

“Don’t you dare!” he says and he grabs my hips firmly. I smile widely (win!) and he rolls his eyes, “Less talking, more kissing.” 

“You can do the talking and I can do the kissing,” I suggest, leaving a wet kiss right above his navel. 

“Fine,” he snorts (win-win!) and I start traveling down his body, leaving kisses, liking and biting his skin, leaving trails of goosebumps after my lips. His breath his shaky when he starts speaking, but it just makes it all sexier. “You’ll recall there is a pretty big couch in my office.”

“Mmmmh.” 

“I dreamed you let me fuck you on it while everyone was working in the other room.” He murmurs, his voice is a little more than a whisper, but it makes my body goes all hot and eager. 

With every new kiss, he adds more details about his dream and I am almost sure that we won’t be able to stop today, but I don’t really want to at this point. The image of what he’s saying is now carved in my mind and I don’t think I’ll be able to sit on that couch anymore without being tuned on.

When I reach his black boxers, his body is extremely tense under my touch and he lets out a loud moan, I place a hand over his mouth laughing, “Shhhh, we have to be quiet.” 

I leave a wet, long kiss over his cock still covered in his boxers and he moans again under my hand; it makes me shiver. 

As soon as I run a finger under the elastic band, someone knocks loudly at my door. I snort, while Baz literally groans. 

“What’s up?” I ask, praying that my voice doesn’t betray all the feelings going on inside me. 

“My mother’s on the phone for you, Simon! Christmas food things or whatever.” Penny yells from behind the door.

I let myself fall on top of Baz’s body with a sigh. “Coming, give me a sec.” I shout back and I hear her footsteps disappear in the hallway. 

“Gotta go,” I murmur against his chest, “Sorry.” I unwillingly get up from his body and start getting dressed.

He groans again, “And what am I supposed to do?” he asks ironically, gesturing toward his body. 

I smile dumbly at him, “Take a cold, cold shower and have breakfast with us.” 

“I hate you.” He rolls his eyes.

I lean over to him, “Nah, you love me, Mr. Pitch.” And I kiss him full on the mouth, out tongues dance together and he swallows my moans. I have no idea why I said this, but I’ll worry about it later, when my body stops feeling all warm and fuzzy and I can properly think again.

When I reach for the other, he adds with a smile, “Your roommate is a cockblocker, you know. That’s why we are sleeping at my place from now on.” 

“If you’ll ask gently,” I shrug, but I smile back, because I love seeing him like this, “You can grab some of my clothes, shower and we’ll have breakfast together, so you can complain directly to Penny.”

“I don’t think you’d want me to tell her what you were about to do, just minutes ago.” He says with a smirk. What a twat.

“You won’t.” I say and I close the door behind me with a laugh, before he can reply. 

“Hey, Pen.” I greet her, entering the kitchen, she waves with her hand, speaking at the phone and hands me a mug of coffee. 

“Yeah, he is here. Yeah, sure… Bye.” She says and hands me the phone too. 

I love Penny’s mom, she’s quite like my mom too and I think she knows how I feel about her, but we’ve never really talked about it. Turns out our Christmas food things were receipts and grocery lists, but we manage to organise everything. I am so happy Penny’s family is coming over for Christmas. Should I ask Baz to spend it with us too? I have no idea what the proper thing to do int his situation is with your we’re-not-in-a-relationship boyfriend.

When I close the call and enter the dining room, Baz and Penny are arguing animatedly over something and for a moment I’m afraid Baz really told her what we were doing, but then Penny shouts “Just because I’m British it doesn’t mean I have to drink tea all day every day!”

I sigh in relief and sit next to Baz, grabbing a cookie. 

He rolls his eyes, “Then you can’t claim to be a British. Ugh, American folks all around me!” he adds, gesturing at my coffee.

“We didn’t exactly oblige you to stay here, you know.” She snaps back and I kick her leg under the table, “Simon! What the heck was that for?!” 

I take a sip of my coffee, ignoring her question, but Baz promptly answer, “Probably for being a cockblocker.” I almost choke on my coffee and I cough a lot, trying not to die (if for embarrassment or asphyxiation, I don’t know). Penny shoots us a glance with wide eyes. 

“Shut up, you twat.” I mutter, elbowing his side. He laughs.

Like, a proper laugh, with eyes squeezed and head swung back. I think I’ve nerve seen him this careless, this happy and my heart does something funny that I can’t quite place. 

“Let’s make a deal: I’ll disappear in the living room now and ignore this last comment and you wash the mugs and we’ll never talk ever again of you two trying to have sex with me under the same roof. Oh my God, Simon.” She says, her cheeks red, leaving the room. 

“What the hell, Baz?” I say, turning to him, but he’s still laughing and it makes me smile. 

“Oh, c’mon. I’m sure she already knew we are fucking each other, she’s not twelve.” He replies when he calms down, his eyes are extremely bright and I can’t make myself look away. I get up from the chair and he follows me in the kitchen. I put the mugs in the sink and I turn to him, who’s standing right behind me.

“Well, if I recall correctly, you fucked me only in your dreams and I don’t see it happening anytime soon in real life.” I shrug dramatically. I know I am lying, because if we were alone, I’d probably let him do whatever he wants to me.

“Liar.” He says and then he bites my bottom lip, teasing. 

I could get used to have Baz walking around my house, kissing me whenever he wants. 

“I said wash the mugs, not make out in my kitchen!” Penny yells, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. 

Baz place his forehead again my shoulder with a snort and I smile at her, “Stop appearing in the most awkward moments.”

“It wasn’t awkward, asshole.” Bas groans against my sweater, then turns to Penny, “You know, if you keep being annoying, I’ll have to take away the coffee machine at work.” He speaks with the same tone he uses during business meetings and it’s kinda creepy.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she snaps back, “You’d have all the staff pissed off.” 

He shrugs, “Drastic problems require drastic solutions.” 

She rolls her eyes, but she’s fighting back a tiny smile. Penny focus again on me, “What about our board games day?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot! Set everything, I’m coming!” I say clapping my hands. I love board games day! It doesn’t happen often that Penny agrees on playing with me, usually just when there are blackouts or one of us is sick, but we always play after Wine Saturdays (sometimes, our friends stay over and when play all night). 

She nods and goes away. 

For a second, I forgot Baz was here and that he probably doesn’t give a shit about board games. “You staying with us, yes? We can play and eat junk food and you can be normal-lovely-Baz and not CEO-creepy-Baz for some more hours.” 

He rolls his eyes, so I add, “Stay, please.”

He looks at me, tilting his head, then he finally nods and out of enthusiasm, I throw my arms around his neck and I hug him tightly, standing on the top of my toes. This is the first time I’ve ever hugged him and, if possible, it feels even more intimate then what we were doing earlier. It’s just… you know, sex is something you can do even without feelings (even if it’s not the case for me)… but hugs are just…. I don’t know. I feel embarrassed, because maybe I stepped too far.

After a couple of seconds where his body is frozen and tense under mine, I feel his arms squeeze me back and I feel extremely relieved. For a moment, I believe he’s breathing deeply in my hair, trying to catch every sparkle of my smell, but it could just be my imagination; then he murmurs in my ear, “Even if there are more funny games we could be doing without Penny.”

“I bet.” I laugh (even if I feel goosebumps appearing everywhere) and then I move back, not quite letting him go and I lock my eyes in his, “Thank you.”

I am not sure whether I am thanking him for being here, for being nice with my friends, for joking with my best friend or simply because he decided to stay.

He kisses me gently on the lips, just once, and then he lets go. “C’mon, I don’t want her to be pissed off before I actually win whatever we’re playing at.” 

“Why so sure you’re going to win, Mr. Pitch?” I ask, grabbing his hand and following him to the other room. 

“Because I always win, Snow.” He replies, squeezing my hand. 

“There is always a first time.” States Penny from the table and Baz scoffs a laugh. 

Turns out I won’t need to come up with a plan to make these two become friends. 

The day is absolutely amazing. I think I’ve never had such a good day in a lifetime and my heart feel so light that I’m afraid it’s about to fly away. We play almost all day at different games (Baz was right, he won at everything)(insufferable twat. I don’t really care, but Penny definitely does) and we stop just the day time to eat Chinese take-away and watch Tangled (I chose it). Baz doesn’t kiss me in front of Penny, but he always finds a way to touch me: knee against knee under the table, sitting pressed together on the couch, hands intertwined. Baz and Penny keeps bickering, but they do it in a jokingly way that makes me soft. 

Right after dinner, Baz receives a call that makes him all moody and grumpy and as soon as he pushes the phone in his pocket, he says he needs to go. 

“You okay?” I ask, as he wears his coat in the entryway. His mouth is pressed in a hard line and I know he’s back at CEO-creepy-Baz. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Just gotta go.” 

I step a little closer to him as he watches me with distant eyes, he isn’t here anymore with his head and I feel suddenly tired. “Hey.” I murmur, pulling him a little closer pinching his coat. 

He doesn’t say anything, so I just step a little closer and I place my hands on the sides of his face. I run my thumbs over the wrinkles of his furrowed brow, smoothing them. His face softens under my touch when I repeat, “Hey.”

“I’m sorry, work stuffs, I really have to go.” 

“I know,” I shrug, “I just don’t want to kiss you goodbye when you are angry, after the beautiful day we spent together.”

“Oh, so you’re about to kiss me?” he smirks, a bit of the tension leaving his body.

“Only if you can put CEO-Baz aside for a while.” I smile at him and he cocks an eyebrow.

“That’s who I am, Snow. I can’t just turn it off.” He replies, encircling softly my wrists with his hands.

“I know,” I repeat, “Not asking you to. Just asking you to let yourself be happy sometimes.” 

He snorts, but after a while he nods, like he’s made up his mind. “I had a beautiful day too.”

“I’m glad,” I say, “You can come here and piss off Penny whenever you want.” 

He scoffs a laugh, then I get on my tiptoes and I kiss him until we’re both out of breath. “See you tomorrow morning at work, Mr. Pitch.” 

“Baz.” He corrects, kissing the top of my nose in a way that makes everything inside me melts. “Don’t be late, we still have time to work on the couch thing we discussed earlier.”

“Yeah, in your dreams,” I laugh, “Go, save whatever is going to shit at your Ink and then go to sleep, you must be tired as hell.” 

He opens the door and says, “No, I haven’t slept as good as last night in ages, I’m fine.” And then he’s gone. 

He hasn’t slept this good in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are so soft, I love them.  
> I wrote this listening to Sleeping At Last, so it's their fault if this is too cheesy and emotional  
> (it is the music of my soul, tbh)
> 
> I'm sorry if I write more chapter with Simon's POV than Baz's, it's just that Simon is more similar to me and I find it way more easy (and I think I'm just better at writing Simon's POV, tbh)... But don't worry, there'll be more chapters with Baz's POV as well.
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Also, I am extremely happy that y'all liked Sam, Matt and Elly. I told my roommates about this fic (and that they are in it) and now they want to read it, but guess what? Not happening in this century ahahah 
> 
> Take care x


	16. Pitch heir and big pyjamas

BAZ

Stupid Simon Snow. 

Stupid Simon Snow and his stupid cute face. 

Before Simon Snow arrived in my life, I was able to focus on work and nothing could distract me, especially in a moment as critic as this one, when I have to keep the press support and do my absolute best. 

So why the fuck am I thinking about Simon’s lips in the middle of a skype meeting with my dad and the whole Pitch Ink’s shareholders and directors?!

Fiona kicks my leg under the table and try to concentrate again on what these fuckers are saying. 

Truth is I hate almost every single one of these old, cis, white men who thinks they are still in Middle Age and I’d rather go on another public date with the nth blonde girl to prove to the press that I am extremely straight, than hearing another word from them; and I hate those dates so much. 

Here's the problem: my dad is about to retire. As I am the only son of Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the co-founder of the Pitch Ink. (with my father), both him and Fiona want me to take over him and become the new President of the industry. I thought many times about why Fiona would want me to become President and don’t take after my dad herself. I think the answer is that she loved my mother – her sister – so much and she probably loves me just as much, so she wants to see the only Pitch heir take over the estate. We talked about this and she said that she’d just be happy to be my second-in-command (yeah, my aunt is a badass).

How is that a problem, you ask? Because these fuckers I aforementioned don’t think it’s a good idea to invest in (and I quote) “a kid and a woman”. 

As far as my father, being the President, can tell the world that I will succeed him, without the stakeholders’ approval I can’t do it. 

(I swear to God that if I succeed to become President, I will fire all these idiots as soon as my ass lands on his desk’s chair.)

My queerness is a whole other deal. I came out when I was seventeen to my family, like… my whole family, my step-siblings included, and even if Daphne, my step-mother, and Fiona have been very supportive, my father just ignored the fact that I just told him I was gay and asked me to “keep it private”. We’ve never talked explicitly about it ever again. 

We have a deal: until the new president is elected, I have to hide my sexual orientation or it’s sure that these fucking homophobes will support me even less (“A gay kid, seriously?”). That’s why I always have to be seen in public with those models. I am so sick of it, but it’s for the best if in the end I can rule the Pitch Ink and make my mom proud of me.

This meeting is about the idea of opening a new headquarter in LA to expand our activity in the west coast of the country; after an eventful arguing, we end up setting another meeting in two months in London. What a waste of time (not that I listened much, because Simon’s lips, but anyways).

As soon as we close the video call, Fiona punches my arm. “How do you think they are gonna believe you are ready to take over this shit if you don’t even fake interest in the industry’s business?!” 

“I don’t care, LA is a stupid idea. What we need is San Francisco.” I say, rolling my eyes and I get up from his desk to stretch my back, that is aching after all these hours of stupid meeting. 

“I don’t know, Baz, it seems like a long shot to me, but you gotta talk about it with your father.” 

“Will do.” I shrug and I grab an apple from the basket on the desk. “See you tomorrow, I’ll definitely go home. I’m tired as hell.”

It’s way past the office’s closing time, because the meeting lasted more than expected and everyone is already gone home, I didn’t get a chance to see Simon beside ten minutes this morning before I drowned in work, but it’s okay, we aren’t in a relationship or anything, so I shouldn’t be upset about this, even if I’ve got this weird feeling that can’t shake off.

It's so relaxing to see the office empty: it is so quiet that my footsteps echoes around the lonely desks. I threw the apple core in the trash and I wash my hands in the bathroom before heading for my office, I’ve already called David to let him know that I’m on my way, so I just have to put on my jacket and go. 

It’s so late and I’m so tired, I just want to take off this tie and sleep. Dealing with the stakeholders, trying to fake being another person, is exhausting; but I do what it takes, even if I lose myself in the process of reaching my goals. 

I enter in my office without turning the light on (there’s plenty of light coming from New York’s nightlife from the window) and I grab my coat; I almost jump when I hear a noise behind me, so I turn around to see a little ball suspiciously resembling Simon Snow on the couch. 

He is all curled up, like he’s trying to occupy less space possible, trying not to bother anyone for being here, and he is fast asleep. 

Speaking of… what is he doing here? He should have been home for like two hours. 

“Oh, Simon…” I murmur softly under my breath. 

I kneel beside the couch and I caress his cheek, but he doesn’t move. I glance at the door, but it is closed and anyway I think that there’s just me and Fiona here, so I lean closer to him and I brush my lips over his forehead, leaving the tiniest of kisses. “Snow, wake up.”

He still doesn’t move, so I leave kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his ear. “Wake up, c’mon.” He hums, but his eyes stay shut, so I shake his shoulder (because my patience is running a little low)(I’m tired and I just really want him to come home with me and sleep there, not here). 

“You know, there are sweeter ways to wake someone.” He says with a low sleepy voice that goes directly to my belly. 

“I tried waking you with kisses, Snow.” I roll my eyes, “but you were more dead than alive.” 

He sits, stretching his body, “What time is it?”

“A little past eight, I think. What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you,” he says simply, with a shrug, “I thought you were gonna be all messed up after that way too long meeting.” 

“You didn’t have to wait.” I reply cocking an eyebrow, even if I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy by his statement. 

“It’s not a problem,” he says, then his cheeks turn red, “I bought you bagels but after a while I got hungry and I hate them.” 

I laugh at that, then I get on my feet, “Let’s go home, Rosa left me dinner ready.” 

He stands and grabs my hand, “Can I come with you?”

“Of course you are coming with me.” I say and I squeeze his hand a little, how can he think that I’d let him go away without me?

I let myself keep holding him while we cross the empty office and when we get in the elevator, I see Fiona smirking at me from the other side of the room, but she doesn’t say anything.

Snow keeps glancing me side looks, watching me like I’m about to explode and destroy the whole building. 

“What?” I ask, rolling my eyes. 

“Nothing.” He replies quickly, looking away as fast as he can. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s just… uhm, you – you know.” 

“Use your words, Snow.” 

“Are you okay?” he asks, after a while. “You’re always all moody after important meetings and you’ve barely spoken since I woke up, so…” 

“Fine.” I say, keeping my voice as casual as I can manage, but then he’s still staring at me like I have to add something, so I just say, “Tired and hungry and I just really want to kiss you here and now but there are security cameras.”

“Okay.” He says and the corners of his beautiful lips curl up in a tiny smile. 

David is waiting for us right outside the building and he opens the door of the car for us; if he is surprised to see Simon, he doesn’t show it. Simon greets him enthusiastically (annoying), stumbles on his feet trying to get on the car and I grab him by his arms to not let him fall down and I get in after him. As soon as David closes the door, I intertwine my fingers with Simon’s again. He looks outside the window for the whole ride and I look at him; at how the lights of the night make his eyes and hair shine. He never stops rubbing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb and by time we arrive, I am feeling way better, but I’m still exhausted as fuck. 

We remain silent until we’re at the kitchen table, with heated food in two plates in front of us. We’ve never stopped holding hands (even if when the car stopped, Simon tried to let go of him, but I squeezed his hand and he smiled at me)(I mean, it’s just David. He works for me and he has a contract that obliges him to keep my life private).

What bothers me is that I can’t tell if Simon is being quiet because he’s still scared that I might explode any minute and he is moving on eggshells.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, after he finishes eating his pasta (mine is still all in the plate, I’m not really hungry, I just want to sleep). 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugs and I feel his socketed foot brush against mine under the table. 

“Since when I’ve met you, I haven’t been able to make you shut up for more than three consecutive minutes – unless I was kissing you - and tonight you’ve barely spoken.” I say, then to not makes it look like I care too much (because I definitely don’t), I add, “Not that I don’t appreciate you shutting up for once.” 

He snorts sarcastically at my last comment, but he drops it (thankfully). “I’m just happy to stay here with you, really.” 

“Okay.” I say and I really hope my eyes don’t betray all the feelings going on in me. 

He gets up to move the plates next to the sink and offers me his hand, “Can I spend the night?”

I wraps my arms around his neck and I nod, “You don’t have to ask, you can stay here whenever you want; but I’m afraid I have not much energy to do anything but sleep.” 

He smiles at me, before kissing my cheek, “I wasn’t thinking about anything else.” I was. “C’mon.”

Snow borrows one of my pyjamas and he changes in the bathroom (while I’m changing in my room); when he comes back, I smile at him because the pyjamas is too big for him and his hands are hidden under the sleeves and he had to roll up the end of the sweatpants (he looks absolutely adorable)(why do I keep thinking this about him? Adorable is a word that shouldn’t even be in my vocabulary). 

He lies next to me, leaving some space between our bodies and he watches me with big blue eyes full of wonder and beauty. “Are you too tired for cuddles too?” 

“I don’t cuddle.” I snort, as if I’m not already pulling him closer to me; he places his head above my chest, one of his hands is in my hair and his feet find their place between mine. 

Suddenly, all my tiredness disappears, replaced by a warm and fuzzy feeling that I can’t really explain and I have the urge to say, “You’re mine, Simon Snow.” 

He tenderly kisses my chest and places his ear over my heart; he casually brushes his thumb under my shirt and replies, “I can feel your heartbeat inside of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I know shit about economics or industries? lol  
> My fields are art and history, so yeah!
> 
> Anyways, they are so in looooove (Baz wants to point out that "they are not in a relationship")(but aren't they?)
> 
> I love y'all, thanks for the kudos and comments! 
> 
> Take care x


	17. night creature and warm shower

SIMON

I’m not really sure how, as we fell asleep with my head on his chest, but I wake up with Baz on top of me. Literally on top of me. I don’t think that even a single inch of his body is touching the mattress (well, maybe his toes, because he’s taller than me). He’s basically a blanket; a very heavy, very cold blanket who’s squeezing me. Am I about to complain? Definitely not. Not in a million years. 

I’m still not sure where things with Baz are going with the whole “we are not in a relationship” thing, so I intend to enjoy every single moment I get to spend with him to the fullest. 

My heart sings “you’re mine, Simon Snow” like a Celine Dion song, on the top of its lungs. 

I don’t know if I’m his; how can you know? Does the fact that I wake up thinking about him and dream about him at night means I’m his? Does me wanting him to be as happy as he’s ever been in his life means I’m his?

I have no idea. What I know, though, is that I’ve never wanted anything more than to be his (his what? Lover, boyfriend, family? I don’t know this either, but his)(and with the childhood I had in foster care, I always wanted many, many things so badly).

I brush my nose against his cheek and he groans in response, hiding his face deeper in the crook of my neck. His hot breath tickles my skin, making me shiver. 

“G’morning.” I murmur in his soft soft soft hair; I can feel his lips pressed against me. “We gotta get up at some point, you know.” 

“No.” he whispers and doesn’t move a single muscle, he just lays on me, making me want to kiss him so badly, but not giving me a chance to with his face hidden like this.

“You’re not really a morning person, aren’t you?” I tease him and I slip my hands under his tee, massaging the knuckles of his back. I can literally feel his skin warming up under mine. 

“Night creature.” He replies muttering against me. He is so close that I can literally feel the way his lips curl and stretch to speak. 

“You still gotta get up.” I laugh and I move a little my leg, to be more comfortable. 

He raises his head to watch me with his sleepy worried grey eyes, “Am I crushing you?” 

“If you mean it like “am I your crush?”, the answer is that you could be if you bought me more scones,” I say with a thoughtful expression, “If you’re asking if you have to roll off me, then definitely not.” I wrap my arms more tightly around him and he buries his face again, before I have a chance to kiss him. Ugh. 

“Who do you think buys all the scones you eat from the office’s buffet?” He snorts lightly. Morning Baz is my favourite Baz, because he is extremely soft, like he doesn’t have enough energy to hide behind his walls till he drinks his tea. 

“Well, then the answer might be yes, because the way to my heart is through my stomach.” I shrug theatrically and he mutters something that suspiciously sounds like “Idiot”.

“Speaking about the office, we gotta get up, c’mon.” 

“I’d rather just stay here.” 

“Liar,” I laugh, “I know you; you’ll be angry if you arrive late at work. Move your ass, you have to take a shower and then we can talk about those scones again.” 

He sighs and rolls off me (I try not to show how much I immediately ache for the loss of his body) and I get up after him. 

He’s staring at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, so I pull him to me with a hand on the back of his neck and I kiss him and I kiss him and I kiss him; suddenly I’m not worried about being late anymore (it’s still quite early anyway). 

“Shower with me.” He murmurs softly, out of breath, his forehead against mine. 

My belly stumbles, falls and crash down in a single movement and as much as I want to say yes, I also want to say no. Imagining Baz naked, with the water running down his skin is a little bit too much to keep my body quiet.

“I don’t… I’m not – I am just…” 

“Use your words, Snow.” He grins and I feel his fingers intertwine with mine at our sides. 

I take a deep breath, “I don’t think I’m ready, yet? To have sex? With you? I mean… I do really, really, really want to have sex with you in the shower, but I don’t think I can do that. Like, at the moment. Have sex in the shower with you.” 

His grin opens in a wide smile, so bright that it might burn my eyes. “Just a shower, I promise. I’d say I won’t even look at your body, but I’d be lying.” 

“If I get to look back at yours, it’s a yes.” I say with a dumb smile and I pull him behind me before I change my mind, till we reach the bathroom. He makes the water run, he undresses rapidly and steps in the shower, without even glancing at me. I’m standing by the door, a little bit frozen, partly freaking out because --- holy shit that was Baz’s butt. Baz’s perfect butt. 

And I know he hasn’t looked at me because he wants to give me time to change my mind if I want to. 

The fact is that I’m afraid Baz might not like what he sees when I get my clothes off. I am not even close to have a perfect body like his and what if he understands that I’m not at his level?

That’s when I hear him softly sing Adele under the water that I make up my mind.

It’s Baz. He cares about me. I don’t have to be afraid. He told me I’m his.

I take a deep breath after undressing and I step into the shower behind him. He’s turned to the other side and I take a moment to appreciate how beautiful his body is. I step closer and I place my forehead against his back, right under his neck. His skin is warm and the water starts rolling down my body in lazy rivulets. As soon as I touch him, he stops singing and his body stills. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come in.” he whispers.

“Me neither.” What a fool I was for even thinking about depriving me of this moment. 

“Can I turn around?” he asks after a moment. 

I nod and I step back, “Yeah.” 

He turns to me, his eyes locking in mine for a while and then I feel his gaze rolling down every inch of body, going lower lower lower. His pupils get so wide that I can barely see his grey irises. 

I keep watching his face, not daring to look anywhere else for the moment and when his eyes finally come back to mine, my breath catches in my throat. 

“You are beautiful.” He says with hoarse voice, his cheeks getting red and his lips slightly parted. 

Something breaks from happiness inside me; or maybe find its place. I’m not sure. 

I lean my face against his shoulder and he steps back, taking us both under the hot water. 

He washes his hair and then mine, careful not to let shampoo in my eyes and when he’s done, he kisses my nose with a weird smile, saying “Mine.” 

He makes me feel like I’m made of butterfly wings. I wrap both my arms around his neck and I kiss him with as much tenderness as I can manage. We stay like that, two puzzle pieces who just found each other, till the water turns cold and our fingers get prune. 

(I have never been more right in my entire life: Baz body is perfect. Like, everywhere. I’m sure that he was carved on marble by Canova.)

I wrap a towel around my waist and I follow him in the other room. He opens the wardrobe and he checks many suits before picking a dark grey one and all the matched accessories (his closet is bigger than my room). 

“No way.” I half-scream, getting closer to his wardrobe, “Why don’t you never wear these?” I ask, with wide eyes, brushing my fingers over dozens of delicate floral and colourful suits. 

He snorts, “Not accepting fashion advices by you.” 

“I worked on the fashion articles for the magazine for over two years. Do you even know how many fashion catwalks I have photographed?” 

He scoffs a laugh, “Not enough, as you always wear tee and jeans.” 

“Because I like them, not because I don’t know what else to wear.” I shrug and I turn to him. Unluckily, he’s already half-dressed and I don’t see as much of his skin as earlier (that’s a great, great loss for all humanity)(mainly for me). 

“I don’t wear them at work because they are unprofessional.” He says after a while, his expression neutral. 

“You’d be the coolest CEO ever.” I sigh dramatically. 

“I’m already the coolest CEO ever.” He replies, rolling his eyes. 

“Said literally no one ever.” I laugh and a second after I’m pinned against the wall, his whole body pressed against me. 

“Liar.” He whispers against my lips, his eyes sparkling. 

“If you let them see the real you, they’d like you. At work, you know.” I tell him, running my hand in his wet hair. 

“Drop it.” He snaps back. His eyes suddenly sad or angry, I can’t tell which one.

I think I’ve hit a soft spot, so I just nod and he steps back. “I have to take some documents from my studio, you get dressed and go take breakfast.” He orders and he disappears. 

I’m left here, standing like an idiot, asking myself what I did wrong and why is he so moody. 

I wear the same clothes I wore yesterday, because I didn’t plan to sleep here and I didn’t bring other clothes with me (I’ll need to stop at home and change, ugh). 

I go downstairs and I hear noises coming from the kitchen; is Baz cooking? I wonder, but when I get in the room, I find a middle-aged lady with a tight grey chignon and a pink apron. 

“Uhm, hello?” I mumble. 

She turns to me and her face light up like a Christmas Tree. “Hello! Who are you?” 

Before I get the chance to answer, Baz’s voice comes from behind me, “He’s Simon, he’ll be here often. He likes coffee.” 

“Well, good morning to you too.” She replies, rolling her eyes at Baz. “I see you are in a mood, then you owe me one.” 

Baz snorts loudly behind me and I think that he is about to be mean to her, because of the way she spoke frankly to him.

Instead, Baz walks to her and kiss her cheek. 

My jaw drops to the floor. I have never ever seen Baz being affectionate with anyone (but me), especially not with elder people. 

She notices my expression and smiles at me, “I’m Rosa Possibelfa, the housekeeper.” Her accent is strong and I recall that Baz told me that she is Italian. 

“Simon Snow.” I smile back and I offer her my hand from behind the counter, but she shakes her head, showing me her floury hands, so I take it back. 

“I hope you have a sweet tooth, because Baz here doesn’t eat much and I’m glad I finally have someone to feed with all my receipts.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to bother –“ 

Baz cuts me off, sitting beside me. “He loves eating, Rosa. He likes scones, might bake them often.” 

“Perfect! Also, I have a new Tiramisu receipt my sister sent me yesterday from home, can’t wait for you to try it!” she claps her hands enthusiastically.

After a few minutes, she hands me a big cup of coffee and French toasts and gives Baz a big yogurt bowl with fruits. “Buon appetito!” She leaves the room right after that, squeezing Baz’s shoulder with affection. 

Baz brushes his knee against mine and, without looking at me, he says, “I didn’t want to be rude earlier.” And that’s as much as saying sorry for him, so I grab his free hand on the kitchen counter. 

“Can you leave me at home before going to the office? I need to change my clothes.” 

He nods, finally looking back at me. 

“I think I’m in love with your housekeeper,” I mumble eating my toast, “This is delicious.” 

“Yeah, Rosa is amazing. She was my nanny growing up, but she moved here a couple years ago. She was over the moon when I called her to tell her I was moving here too.” It’s not what he says with his words, but rather what he says with his eyes that make my heart tightens.

I think that Rosa is for Baz, what Penny’s mother is for me.

As I already said, morning Baz is my favourite Baz. He is as soft as butter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know miss Possibelf's surname isn't spelled Possibelfa, but I needed to make it sound more italian, so yeah, sorry for that! 
> 
> In the story we're around the 9th of December and I can't wait to post the chapter about Christmas day (but we still have a long way to go before that)!
> 
> Reminder that you can find me on tumblr @lovi-ngbooks :D
> 
> I hope y'all are doing fine!  
> Take care x


	18. candy canes and miscommunication

SIMON 

“Christmas decorations are overrated and I definitely don’t get why we can’t just stay at my place and make out instead of… that.” Baz snorts. 

I pinch his arm, slightly pissed off. “We can’t because today it’s two weeks till Christmas and the Holy Law of Christmas says that we have to decorate our Christmas Tree or we’ll perish in hell for eternity.” 

“I’m not sure there is a Christmas Law.” 

“Just because you’re the Grinch.” I snap back, but I grab his hand as soon as we enter the hallway of my building, hidden from curious eyes. 

“Snow.” He warns me, squeezing my hand more tightly and I almost laugh because he doesn’t get that this gesture warms me from the inside and definitely doesn’t scare me. “Who’s gonna be there?” he asks.

“Just the three of us, don’t worry.” I shrug and I open the door of my apartment. “Penny, we’re home!”

Her voice shouts back, “Is the Grinch with you?” 

“Fuck off,” Baz yells and rolls his eyes, but there is a shadow of a smile on his lips, “Did you really have to tell her that I’m not into Christmas things?” 

“Yes.” I laugh and I kiss his cheek, just because I can; and because he’s here anyway, despite his proclaimed hate for the most beautiful day of the year. 

Penny and I already brought all the boxes with the decorations in the living room and the tree is already in a corner, patiently waiting naked. 

Penny’s sitting in the middle of the room, her arms buried in a box and her messy hair pointed on the top of her head with a plastic candy cane. “Why did it take you so long?” Penny asks and my cheeks betray me, because there was, in fact, a little bit of making out earlier. “I got bored and I finished baking the cookies without you.”

“Traitor.” I sigh dramatically and I throw my jacket on the sofa. “I hope you didn’t burn them at least.”

“I did not.” She replies and focuses on the box. “Is Baz going to just stand there and be useless?”

I turn to Baz, who’s looking around like he just saw a ghost. I step closer to him and I bump his shoulder with mine. “Hey.”

I see the exact right moment when his eyes come back from who knows where. He shakes his head a little and I add, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his face unreadable. “Fine. Let’s get started, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Sometimes I wish I could read his mind; it would be way easier than just trying to guess what he’s thinking about, how he’s feeling. 

Our Christmas Playlist is playing in the background and we spend the whole afternoon decorating out tiny, tiny apartment. Mainly it’s just me and Penny talking, Baz is grumpy and distant and every time I try to reach him, he disappears even deeper in his head. 

By the time it gets dark outside, his mood has made me exhausted and angry and I feel like I might cry at any minute. Christmas is like… my special thing. I love everything about Christmas, from lights to hot cocoa. 

The fact is that growing up I hated Christmas. I hated it so much at the point that I used to lay in my bed all day, pretending I didn’t exist. Growing up in foster care is horrible and Christmas is literally just a memo of the fact that you don’t have a family to celebrate it with. 

Then I met Penny and everything changed; his family welcomed me and I started to spend the holidays with them. Christmas became the only time I could pretend I had a happy, big family around me. 

I still feel the same; that’s why I’m so happy that Penny’s parents are coming over the 25th (I’ve never told this to her, because I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to steal her parents; that’s not what I’m up to)(it wouldn’t be my family without Penny in it, really).

As soon as the last decoration is hung on the tree, Penny and I sink on the couch. “It’s the most badass tree I’ve ever seen.” She says, staring at it. We mayor may not have super nerd Christmas balls, from Star Wars to Harry Potter themed. 

Baz is sitting under the window, typing at his phone (like he’s done for half noon). I can’t properly enjoy my fucking Christmas tree with him stranding there, trying to ruin my special thing being a dick. 

I feel Penny’s eyes on me and a moment later she gets up, “I’m gonna take a shower, my hair is full of dust.” She says and disappears in the hallway. 

I see Baz shoulders tense, but he doesn’t look at me. I’m most definitely looking at him; more like angrily staring at him. 

After a few minutes, he shrugs and he finally – finally – looks back at me. “What?” 

Frustration rises in me like a tsunami. “Why did you come if you had to be an ass?” 

He shrugs, “Because you asked me to.”

His carelessness makes me even angrier: it’s like he doesn’t even realize that he is ruining my Christmas tradition. Or he doesn’t care enough to realize it. More precisely, the tradition I invited him to take part because I care about him and I wanted him to be with me. 

“I shouldn’t have.” I mutter angrily, playing with my hands. 

“It’s not my fault if this whole thing is stupid as fuck.” He snaps back, his eyebrow cocked at me in challenge.

I feel like a bomb about to explode. Maybe I am. 

“It’s your fault that you’re trying to ruin the one thing I care about.” I get up from the couch and I stare at him, arms crossed against my chest. 

He offers me one of his evil grins, the ones I haven’t seen since when we started dating. “Grow up, Snow. Santa doesn’t exist and not a single magic is about to happen at Christmas.”

And that’s it. “Who gives a shit about Santa! You think we had magic and presents at Christmas in foster care?! The thing I care about is Penny’s family and that I get to a part of it for one evening and pretending to be fucking loved for a single night per year. Blame me!” I can feel tears in my eyes and the fact that his jaw dropped to the floor is just making it worse. 

“Go, now. I don’t want you here anymore.” I say as coldly as I can and then I go to my room, closing the door behind me, because the last thing I want is for him to see me cry.

I lean on the closed door and I slide down till I’m sitting on the floor; I grab my knees tightly against my chest and I try to control my breath as my therapist suggested. 

BAZ

Panic is rushing into me like electricity.

It’s not until I feel his door close with a muffled click that realize that I screwed things up with Simon Snow. 

Truth is, I didn’t even want to.

It’s just that, everything in this room is fucking shouting my mother’s name and I can barely think about anything else. Christmas has been such a taboo in my life since my mom died; we don’t even celebrate it anymore. 

I thought I could manage to decorate with Snow, because… it’s Snow, but as soon as I saw the boxes, my brain short-circuited. 

It never occurred to me that Christmas means a lot to him because of the way he grew up. I’m a such an idiot. 

“You better get your ass out of here.” Penny growls at me, with a death look. She’s exactly as she was when she left to shower and for a second my brain realizes that she just wanted to leave us alone, but then I shake my head. 

“No, I have to talk to him.” 

She just stands there, looking at me like she’s pondering whether killing me would put her in troubles or not. 

“Please.” I add. 

She’s quiet for a moment, then she nods, “If you make it worse, I’m gonna kick your ass all the way down the stairs.”

“If I make it worse, I’ll let you.” I reply and then I reach Simon’s room. I hear Penny’s door closing behind her.

I knock and after a few second of silence I knock again. “Snow, let me in.” I murmur, just as loud to be heard from him. 

I hear something that seems alarmingly like a sob and my heart tightens. I lean my forehead on the door with a sigh. “I am so sorry for being an ass.” 

Still nothing from him. 

I should be terrified by the fact that I care, because this is not a relationship and I don’t want one; but I care. My God, I care so much. 

“I wasn’t trying to ruin your day. It’s just…” I don’t know, I can’t tell him about my mom. It’s way too personal. (But he told you about Penny’s family, says the voice in my head)(I shush it) “It was a bit overwhelming.” 

Another sob and I make up my mind. “It… it reminded me of my mom. We haven’t celebrated Christmas since when she died,” I murmur. I’m not sure if I hope that he hears me or not. “and we always decorated together and I don’t know… It was a bit too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” I repeat and then I squeeze my eyes, “I’ll go home now, if that’s what you want me to do – that’s not what I want, but… I’ll go, if you’ll tell me so.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me about your mom?” comes his muffled shaky voice. 

I can’t help but sigh in relief when he answers me. “I don’t know,” I say, trying to be as honest as I can (I owe him it), “I’m not used to talk about her.” Because it’s like she never existed sometimes. My father never talks about her. 

“You can talk to me about things, Baz.” 

I don’t know what to say. Everyone always wanted me to hide so much things about myself that this takes me off guard. “Can you forgive me?” I ask, after a moment.

“Only if you promise to tell me stuff from now on.” 

And I can’t quite promise but, “I can try.” I nod, even if he can’t see me. 

A low click makes me step back and the door opens silently; Simon Snow is staring at me with suspiciously bright eyes and a sad expression. 

“Hey.” I say softly. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he opens his arms in an invitation and I sink into them. “I’m sorry.” I say again in his hair, hugging him tightly. I’m surprised at how easy it is to say these words; it’s not something I say often. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, his face pressed against my neck. 

We lie on his bed and he tells me how the first Christmas at Penny’s was, how he felt like an intruder; he tells me about the first ever present he received when he was 11 years old and my heart hurts, because I can’t imagine living the first eleven years of my life without somebody by my side. For how imperfect my family is, we’re still there for each other when we need it.  
And I tell him about the Christmas shopping I did with mom and Fiona when I was little, about how we decorated their office; it’s hard at first, but then the words just can’t stop to rush out of my mouth and I end up telling him about every single Christmas memory I have. 

I had no idea I had these things in me. 

At dinner, we reach Penny in the living room, both smiling a whole lot more than before. Suddenly, every candy cane, every light, every ball doesn’t hurt as much as before, but it’s a way to remember my mom. 

We eat way too many cookies and drink mugs of hot cocoa, watching Disney cartoons, because “it’s the tradition, Baz.”. I never let go of Simon’s hand. 

At around midnight, when Snow’s yawns are at their loudest, my phone rings. 

SIMON 

Baz answers his phone with an annoyed look, “You do know it’s midnight here, right?” 

He tries to speak, but he always gets cut off by God-knows-who (“No, don’t….” “I said…” “No, I have work to…”). 

“Annoying.” He says rolling his eyes, after closing the call. 

“You okay?” I ask, because I’ve never ever seen Baz answer a phone call like that. He’s usually the one speaking more and cutting the other person off. 

“Evidently, my sister is coming to New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a little boring and I'm sorry, but i needed it to introduce whatever is going to happen on Christmas! Please, have a little faith in me... ughh
> 
> Yeah, I definitely don't like Christmas... In fact, I love it. 
> 
> IT'S NOVEMBER 1ST, SO IT'S OFFICIALLY CHRISTMAS TIME. If you see someone singing Last Christmas while shopping, it's probably me (because that's the most beautiful Christmas song ever).
> 
> How did y'all spend Halloween?  
> I just had pizza with my roomies, because we now have curfew at 8 pm for covid and we couldn't go anywhere... 
> 
> Take care x


	19. faceless crowd and carefree laughters

BAZ 

The airport is crowded as hell when I stop at the Arrival Gate, but it's quite refreshing actually. Seeing all these people living different lives, none of them caring about who I am or who I love. They are just faceless strangers, standing in a crowd that moves just like the ocean's tides. No one here cares about anything in the world, but the person they are waiting for. 

Mordelia and I used to play a game when we were little and we spent hours every week at airports and on planes, following our father everywhere as two lost dogs who had nowhere else to go. The rules were really simple: we picked someone, it could be anyone - from the man reading the newspaper, to the tiny girl with a teddy bear - and we had to tell their stories; who they were, why they were at the airport, who they were waiting for or where they were heading to.

What I loved most about our game, was that the most common person ever could become an undercover spy or the President of unknown countries. 

I wonder if we saw me now, what we'd thought my story was. Mordelia would've probably said I am a vampire, with this dark elegant suit and my black hair. Most definitely she wouldn't have guessed that I'd become a boring businessman waiting for her annoying sister on a cold, grey morning. 

(My sister isn't really that bad, but this is a secret I can't let her know.)

Mordelia is literally a smaller version of me, except for the fact that she’s a woman and that her skin is as white as Italian marble; but, to be honest, we are nothing alike in terms of personalities. Where I studied economics and business because I had to take over my dad, she studied languages, because she wants to travel the world. If I always wear elegant suits, she always dresses depending on her mood: sometimes she’s a hippie out of the 1970s, sometimes she’s an emo with thick eyeliner and leather skirts. 

What I admire most about my sister is her freedom, her carelessness. She always does what she pleases and fuck the consequences; sometimes I wish I were more like her. 

Today, evidently, she’s in one of her hippie outfits and that’s why I spot her as soon as she appears in the crowd of passengers who just landed in New York City, all ready to become part of this faceless crowd. She’s wearing a baggy multicolour sweater and round bright-pink sunglasses, her black hair styled in two messy buns on her head, a coffee in a hand and the biggest suitcase ever created in history in the other. 

I can’t keep a little smile when our eyes meet, but then something catches my attention and I look at the girl running full speed toward another girl. They hug so tight that it almost hurt to look at them, they are half crying, half laughing. And then they kiss and something happens in me. I don’t really know what, but something definitely happens. 

I admire how carefree they are. They aren’t afraid to show who they really, they don’t care if their hearts are a little different. They don’t care that showing their true selves will put a target on their backs.

I want that, too. 

But I can’t have it. Not yet, not never. I have too much to lose.

Something breaks.

“I was hoping Fiona would be the one to pick me up…” she sighs, approaching me and it shakes me from my thoughts. “But I guess you’ll do too.” 

“Ungrateful.” I snort. She jumps and wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. 

“Nah, I missed you, Basil. Home is boring without you.” She says and I roll my eyes, but I hug her back. 

“How was the flight?” I ask, putting her back on the ground. 

“Good.” She shrugs and then she glances over my shoulder, “I figured you would’ve come to pick me up with your boyfriend.” 

“What?” I mumble. What? “How do you know?”

“So…” she says, ignoring my question, “Where is he?”

“He doesn’t exist, because I don’t have a boyfriend.” I cock an eyebrow at her, but she just snorts.

“Yeah, right. I meant your assistant.” She laughs, shaking her head; her hair waves like leaves in the wind.

“Shut up, Delia.” I snort and I grab her suitcase. She follows me to the car, but she doesn’t stop talking for a second. She even annoys David. Like, for all the time of the ride to my house. I don’t pay him enough to deal with both me and my sister. 

“You know, at some point I’ll have to meet your boyfriend-assistant-whatever…” she says when we get off the elevator. 

“And why would that happen?” 

“Because I’ll stay here at your place for a week at least and I don’t think you can give up sex for that long.” She laughs. 

“I already regret inviting you here oh, wait… I did not invite you, you just showed up.” I roll my eyes (because I can’t quite admit that I can’t – in fact – stay a whole week without Snow)(stupid Simon Snow that makes me need-y).

“Treat your sister with kindness, Baz.” Rosa’s voice says from somewhere behind me. 

“Oh, Rosa!” My sister smiles brightly at her. 

“You’ve grown so much, piccola mia. Come here.” She says and her eyes are suddenly very bright. They hug, after years apart. “How long are you staying?” 

“As long as Baz will let me.” She shrugs, “At least till Christmas, I hope.”

“I beg your pardon, what?” I scoff, eyes widening. “That’s almost two weeks. I can’t put my life in stand-by for two weeks for you.” 

“No one is asking you to.” She rolls her eyes, then she turns to Rosa. “So, how is this mysterious boyfriend?” 

Rosa’s cheeks turn red when I glance at her, but she just shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who wants lunch?” 

I’m told to bring her suitcase to her room and I do, just because I want some time alone from my sister’s rivers of words. As I reach the stairs, I hear Rosa murmurs softly “He’s so precious, you’ll adore him.” 

“Traitor.” I shout back, but I’m not pissed off. No one can be pissed off at Rosa, honestly. 

My phone rings and I take it from my pocket; I ignore the tons of mails I already received since I last checked it earlier and I go directly to Simon’s text. It’s a pic of him, dumb smile and messy hair; from his sleepy eyes, I can tell he just woke up, even if it’s 11 am; it makes me smile, mostly because I am the reason he went to sleep late (a lot of kisses and soft touches were ensued). 

I don’t even realize that my finger presses the button to call him, until I hear his voice, hoarse and low. 

“Morning.” He says. “Are you home yet?”

“Yes.” I say softly, I wish I was there to hold him. Sleepy Simon is my favourite Simon.

“How is your sister?” 

“She’s annoying.” 

“Well, otherwise she wouldn’t be your sister. DNA means something, Baz.” He laughs a little. 

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, even if he can’t see me. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah… And whose fault is that?” he asks ironically. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I snap back, even if I can’t help but smile thinking about last night. 

“I bet.” He laughs again. Hearing Simon Snow laughs is like a breath of fresh air, it’s refreshing and quite essential to live. I wish he never stopped laughing. 

“She wants to meet my assistant, though. Even if I’m not sure how she found out about us.” I don’t know why I tell him this, but it feels like the right thing to do. 

“Maybe she really just means your assistant and nothing else.” He replies, but he sounds uncertain. 

“Nah, she wouldn’t have called you my… Never mind.” I say, biting my tongue. I can’t say the B word. Not when we’re not in a relationship. “What do you think about having a dinner with us?”

Silence. Then, “It would be great, yeah.” He murmurs. “As… friends?” 

“It’s just a dinner with my sister, Snow. We don’t need labels.” I shrug. I hate the fact that I can’t give him what he needs, what he wants.

“Okay, then. Dinner it is.”

“Tomorrow after work at my place? You can come directly with me, David will be there at 6 pm as always.” 

“Deal.” He says and then we both get quiet. “Thank you.” His voice is soft, like he’s talking to a scared puppy.

“For what?” 

“Just… thank you.” 

“Okay.” I murmur back. “See you tomorrow, then?” 

“If you can wait that long, yes.” He jokes, but there is some sort of truth in his statement. A truth that I will never admit out loud: Simon Snow has become too important for me to let him go. 

And this scares the shit out of me.

-

SIMON 

“Okay, but how do I behave? I’m not really good in these formal meetings.” I mumble, following Baz in the car, after waving at David. I would lie if I said that I haven’t had anxiety since Baz called me yesterday. 

“It’s just you meeting my sister over a plate of pasta, no big deal.” He rolls his eyes. 

But it’s not just that; it’s Baz introducing me to a member of his family as something more than just his employee. It’s Baz admitting that he cares about me. 

And I don’t want to screw everything up or make him regret this. 

I side glance at him, trying to find as many answers as I can, but his face doesn’t show anything at all. After a while, he groans. “What.” 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” I say. 

He scoffs a laugh, “Who cares? The only thing that matters is that I like you, everything else is just circumstances.” 

“Okay.” I murmur, trying to calm down the storm inside me who singing ‘the only thing that matters is that I like you’. 

He likes me. Baz pitch likes me! How can all these people around us drive away like nothing happened? Can’t they feel the Earth spinning faster, the colours looking brighter? 

I can’t drop it, not really (because I’m an idiot who likes to test his luck).

“So… You like me.” I point out, after a while. 

I feel his shoulder tense next to mine; “I… didn’t say that.” He says coldly.

“Oh no, you most definitely did. Didn’t him, David?” I ask, looking at the rear-view mirror, but David doesn’t give any sign that he heard me. So I just turn to Baz and nod, smiling widely. “You did.”

“Shut up, Snow.” He rolls his eyes and turns his face to the window, but after a second I feel his hand slides against mine and he intertwines his fingers with mine. 

When we get in the elevator, he lets go of my hand, but he leans in and kisses me, tenderly. “Don’t freak out, it’s just a twenty years old girl with weird clothes. You can do it.” 

“Oh, finally!” she yells, when the elevator’s doors open with a beep. “I’m absolutely bored and jet lag sucks.” 

Turns out Baz’s sister is literally a tiny, more smile-y version of Baz. She’s got long black hair and her skin is light, but her face is the same as his. 

Her big grey eyes immediately land on me and she smiles wickedly, “Hi!” 

“I’m Simon Snow.” I say and I offer her my hand, because I have no idea what the proper thing to do when you meet the sister of your not-boyfriend is. She shakes it, animatedly. 

“Mordelia Grimm, I’m so happy to finally meet you. You’re not at all how I imagined you.” She says, glancing at her brother. 

This demoralizes me a bit, because it’s just a reminder that I’m not at Baz’s level and I never will be; I try not to show my disappointment. I think about something to say, but luckily Baz cuts it off. 

“Don’t torture him or you’ll sleep on the balcony tonight.” He says, rolling his eyes. “Is dinner ready? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah, Rosa just left.” 

“Oh, I wish I met her! I had to update her: I tried the Tiramisu receipt she gave me and it was divine.” I sigh and Mordelia’s face lights up, as we follow Baz to the dinning room. 

“I know, isn’t her food just the best?” she exclaims, “When we were little, she used to bake this giant chocolate cake whenever we were sad. I think it had more chocolate than flour in it, actually. The most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“She’s awesome.” I nod, “I wish I grew up with someone like her by my side.” I don’t know why I said that, but she doesn’t give it too much meaning – I’m relieved that she doesn’t know about my childhood. People usually looks at me with pity and treats me with gloves when they find out.

“She likes you too.” She winks at me and I feel my cheeks turn red. 

“Stop plotting, you two.” Baz says as he brings three plates to the table. “That’s my field of expertise, not yours.”

I sit next to him and Mordelia’s in front him, on the other side of the table. Baz’s hand lands on my knee and squeezes it gently in a silent question: are you okay?

I rub my knuckle on his hand’s back. I’m fine.

The food is exceptional as always, and as we keep talking, eating and drinking red wine, Baz’s become happier and more relaxed. I don’t know why, but I pictured that he would’ve had a cold relationship with his sister, exactly as he has with his father, but it’s not the case. 

They are just… siblings. They joke, bicker and tease each other without any apparent real reason, but they are tender in their own way. I can tell just how much Baz cares about her by the way he laughs with her. Seeing Baz this carefree only happens in very rare circumstances and every time it’s because he’s with someone he loves: whether it’s Fiona, Rosa or… well, me. 

I’m not saying that Baz loves me, not at all (I am not that lucky); but he cares enough about me to let his walls down and be himself around me. That’s the most wonderful thing that could have ever happened to me in this lifetime. 

Mordelia shows me many pics of baby Baz and they are the cutest thing ever. Every time she tells me a story about his childhood, he kicks her leg under the table, but she just laughs. “That’s when Fiona found him with one of her dresses, he was like ten; he even had make-up on!” she laughs, showing me a pic of a tiny, tiny Baz with a way too long velvet red dress and bright blue eyeshadow. 

“Oh my god, you need to send me that pic, I gotta show it to Penny.” I laugh.

“Don’t you dare.” He groans and I don’t know if he’s talking to me or her sister. 

“Who’s Penny?” 

“Oh, she’s my best friend. We live together and, well, we also work together.” 

“We could all go out together one of these nights! This Friday I have to meet with an American friend of mine, we could go to a club or something.” She smiles, “Do you remember Shepard?” she asks to her brother. 

“Who?”

“Shepard from Omaha, who else!” she shrugs, “Anyway, I’ll take care of everything, you’ll just have to bring your asses – and Penny’s ass too, it will be fun!” 

“You know I can’t just fool around, Delia. The press and everything.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ll handle it.” 

I’m not sure how, but in the end, she manages to convince her brother to say yes and she smirks wickedly at us. She probably knows that Baz couldn’t deny her anything even if he wanted to.

This girl is a force of nature. 

She disappears some time later, saying that she’s tired, but I think she just wants to leave us alone, as she’s still jetlagged and it would be afternoon in England now. 

Baz grabs my hand as soon as she’s gone and he pulls me closer, I sit on his lap, my knees on either side of him; his lips land on mine with need. He kisses me with such passion that I forget everything else for a moment. There is just Baz. Baz and I. Pressed together. 

When he pulls back for air, I leave a trail of kisses down his neck. “I missed you.” I whisper and his arms wrap more tightly around me, his hands under my sweater, drawing circles on my skin. 

“We’ve been together all day.” He replies with the same tone of voice. 

“Yeah, but… I couldn’t do this.” I snap back and I leave a kiss on his jaw. 

“Cheesy.” He says, but I can feel the smile hidden in his voice. 

“I should go home, it’s getting late.” I say, pulling back. 

He looks at me with a dumb smile, “Or you could stay.” 

“Your sister is here.” 

“Just to sleep.” He adds. “Stay?” 

“Okay.” I bite his bottom lip with a smile, his mouth trying to catch mine, “Let me just tell Penny I’m not coming back or she’ll kill me for real this time.” 

“I think she’s used to it by now.” He laughs, but he lets me go and I reach my phone on the coffee table. 

“Maybe, but I don’t wanna risk.” I shrug. She texts me back almost immediately. “She’s watching Pirates of the Caribbean without me.” 

“How can you survive such a treason.” He mocks me with a grin. 

“I’ll survive because the only thing that matters is that you like me, isn’t it?” I murmur, echoing what he said earlier. I bite my tongue; I shouldn’t have said that, now he’ll get mad at me. 

Instead, he cups my face with his hands and rubs the top of his nose against mine, “I guess so, you menace.”

Baz Pitch is a constant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY! I'm a horrible person and I haven't posted a chapter in ages.  
> As some of you already knows from my tumblr, I've been quarantined far from home for a while and I didn't have my laptop with me, ugh. Now I'm back home, tho (yay)! These two weeks I have exams so I won't still post regularly, but as this chapter was almost ready, I wanted to publish it asap... 
> 
> Anyways, I am back!   
> I have a few things to say aboutth is chapter:  
> 1) In my head Mordelia is an absolute badass, just like her mom and Fiona; (I know that she's much younger than Baz, but I needed her to be 20 in this story!)  
> 2) Shepard from Omaha, who else?!  
> 3) Rosa's chocolate cake is actually my favourite cake in the whole world and it's the cake my Nan bakes for every single birthday of every family member (yeah, my grandma is awesome)  
> 4) Arrival gates at airports are my favourite places, they are always so full of happiness, love, kisses and hugs. 
> 
> I hope you are all doing well!   
> Take care x


	20. Head over Heels and floral shirt

SIMON

When Friday finally arrives, we’ve managed to go from a “easy night with friends” to a “karaoke and club night” with Baz, Mordelia and her friend, Penny, Elly, Matt and Sam. Let’s just say things escalated quickly. 

I’ve spent almost every night of the week with Baz and his sister at his place and I’ve grown to adore Mordelia; both because she’s awesome and because I love how Baz is when she’s around him. It’s like she manages to kick down his walls just by teasing him. They’re always arguing over stupid things and I’ve heard many screams and shouts; but I’ve also seen the way Baz wakes up early to go buy her the croissants she loves (even if he could just ask Rosa or David to do it) and the way she carefully updates him on everything that’s happening at home while he’s gone (as if she wants him not to lose any single detail of their lives). 

Penny and Sam made me wear a black shirt with long sleeves, but I managed to say no to the tie (I didn’t really say no, I just threw it away when they left my room). It’s been a while since I last saw Penny with her long colourful socks and her shirt just as she used to dress back in college, so I can tell she plans to have fun tonight, because she has them on. 

As I’m buttoning up my shirt, someone knocks on the door and Matt shouts “coming”; the loud laugh of Mordelia echoes down the hall and reaches my room.

Baz is here! I try to fix my hair as fast as I can and I run out of my room in zero seconds, willing to see him. He’s standing next to the couch, busy laughing with Elly about God knows what, but as soon as I enter the room, his eyes locks with mine. It’s almost – almost – as he can feel when I’m nearby. 

My breath catches in my throat. Baz is, objectively, the most beautiful man alive ever existed since the last Greek hero died. And I’m not saying this because I get to kiss those beautiful lips of his every time I want (what did I do to be so lucky?). I’m saying it because he is truly, honestly beautiful, even when it’s 6 am and he just woke up with messy hair and sleepy face. 

But tonight – tonight he is more beautiful than ever (and hot)(very, very hot)

He’s wearing a floral shirt and high-waisted posh trousers, that makes his long, tapered legs look even longer. The higher buttons of his shirt are left open and I can see his smooth, toned chest from half a room away. 

An urge to kiss him senseless rise in my belly and shakes every single inch of my skin, pretending to be heard and satisfied. I’d already be on him if there wasn’t anyone around. He’d be kissing me back, his hands everywhere on my body… 

And I bet this asshole knows exactly what he’s doing to me, because he bites his lower lip while staring directly at me. What a tease. What a – 

“Earth to Simon.” Sam laughs shaking his hand in front of my eyes. “Can you please stop eye-fucking your boss for a second, we’re being introduced to out new entries here.” 

“What? Um, I – yes, sure.” I mumble, then I process his words and I slap his arm, “I wasn’t eye-fucking anyone.”

“Oh, you were.” Penny snaps back, with amused eyes. 

Baz’s cheeks are bright red, but he still hasn’t looked away from me (and I can tell that my cheeks are pretty much the same colour of his). He has one of those half smiles on his lips.

“Well, as no one is going to introduce me, I’m doing it myself.” Sighs Mordelia dramatically. “I’m Mordelia, Baz’s sister and this is my friend Shepard.” 

The guy on her side smiles at us, he’s pretty much as tall as me and his skin is darker than Baz’s; he’s one of those people who smile a lot, by the way his eyes shine and wrinkle a bit at the corners. “Hey, mates!” he waves his hand at us, “Shepard from Omaha.” 

They all start talking and introducing and I can hear them, but the words doesn’t really connect in my brain; I can’t quite concentrate with Baz standing there, looking like that. 

Luckily for me, Baz seems to get the hint and he walks closer to me, looking at me like he might eat me alive. “Snow.” He murmurs, at least than twenty inches from me. His scent envelops me like a cloud and the last bit of self-control I had left disappears in a heartbeat.

I grab his hand and I drag him in the hallway after me, he laughs as our friends shout not-so-appropriate comments after us. 

I can’t even wait all the way to my room; as soon as we’re in the hallway, I turn around and I push him against the wall with my whole body, my hands wandering on his naked chest and I crush my mouth to his in a desperate kiss. I swallow his laugh and his surprise; I press him even more against the wall when he grabs my ass with his hands. I moan against his mouth, his tongue chasing mine with need. 

If only we were alone, if only we were on my bed, if only we could stay here all night long… 

I leave wet kisses down his jaw, his collarbone. “This shirt is… ah, really doing it for me.” I whisper against his skin. 

“I’ve noticed...” He says out of breath. “Not that I’m complaining. I was trying to come up with a plan to bring you to your room, cause you are fucking sexy tonight.” 

I groan when his hand pulls my hair back, his lips trying to catch mine again. 

“Simon Snow, we’re leaving!” Penny shouts from the other room, “You better stop doing whatever and come here.” 

“I think we all know what that whatever is.” Sam snaps back. 

I snort in frustration, placing my forehead on the side of his neck. “Can’t we really just stay here and keep doing this?” I sigh, reluctantly removing my hands from under his shirt. 

He makes me raise my face with a finger under my chin and he smiles at me, his eyes so full of wonder and beauty that I find myself wondering, not for the first time tonight, what did I do to deserve Baz in my life. “We have to go,” he says, combing my hair, trying to fix them a little, “or my sister will literally come here and annoy us till we go with her.” 

I step back, freeing his body from my grip. “Okay, but I want it to be known that I wanted to stay here and just, you know…” I sigh again, letting the implication of what I’m thinking about fly in the air. Because I’m most certainly thinking about that. 

He scoffs a laugh, “You aren’t playing fair.” 

“Desperate times require desperate measures.” I shrug. 

He kisses my forehead and he walks towards our friends, “C’mon, Snow. Let’s go.” 

We have to take two taxies to get to the club, even if Baz tried to convince us to let David drive us (Mordelia cuts him off saying that tonight he’s just a normal guy out with friends and not a rich CEO, to behave like that).

The club is extremely crowded when we arrive, but somehow Mordelia managed to have a privé and they let us in immediately, without having to wait in queue. It’s a weird club: all around the dance floor thare are doors; it’s divided in different rooms, that are all equipped with karaoke, couches and liters of alcohol. 

I’m not saying that I’m dying to hear Baz sing, but I can’t literally wait for it. 

We all sink in the couches, playing stupid alcoholic games and drinking way too much. I get why Mordelia chose this club in particular: here, it’s just us and Baz can be himself without the fear of the press seeing him. He’s so relaxed and happy, that it makes me happy. He has never let go of my hand since when we arrived and I’m practically sitting more on him that on the couch, but he doesn’t look bothered at all (the contrary, actually). 

When we are all a little fuzzy with alcohol, Mordelia starts the Karaoke and sings the first song (it’s I Lived by OneRepublic). I end up singing Born This Way with Sam, because that’s literally our hit of when we went to karaoke during college. 

I have no idea how (because we never succeeded), but Shepard manages to make Penny sing a song, too. They sing Head Over Hills by Tears for Fears and at some point, I feel Baz’s hot breath against my face, murmuring the lyrics of the song in my ear, “Don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart, don’t throw it away.” 

I turn around to see his face, wondering if he's just singing or if he meant those words, but he just kisses me before I can ask him anything. 

When the song finishes, he swallows a shot of tequila (not the first, actually) and he gets up. He takes the mic and when he starts singing, he’s looking straight at me in the eyes. It’s one of my favourite songs ever, twat.

He never, never, never looks away while slowly singing:

Don't know if words can say  
But darlin' I’ll find a way  
To let you know what you meant to me  
Guess it was meant to be  
I hold you in my heart  
As life's most precious part  
Oh darlin'  
I dream about you often my pretty darlin'  
I love the way you soften my life with your love  
Your precious love uh huh oh  
I was living like half a man  
Then I couldn't love but now I can  
You pick me up when I’m feeling sad  
More soul than I ever had

Something breaks in me or maybe it was broken before and Baz fixed it. Maybe, I was never broken, I was just a half trying to become a whole. 

I feel like a bubble about to explode. 

Only when my friends start screaming and clapping their hands, I realize that the song has ended and Baz is coming back to the couch, back to me. This time I’m the one who begin the kiss, trying to tell him how I feel without using words. It’s not a passionate kiss as earlier at home, because Baz never really let himself go when there are other people around, but it’s enough. It’s always enough with him. 

“It’s time to dance!” Mordelia shouts and drags Penny and Shepard after her, out of the room and in the middle of the dance floor, crowded with hundreds of people, shaking their bodies along the music. 

“Wanna go with them?” I ask Baz, when they’re all out. 

He kisses me again, more slowly this time, more deeply, like he’s trying to prove a point. Then he steps back and rubs my cheek, “Don’t dance with anyone else.” 

“Why would I dance with someone else when I have you?” I ask, sincerely confused. Can’t he see that no one compares to him? Not now, not ever?

“I don’t dance.” He replies and then he lets me go. 

Oh. “Oh.” I murmur, “Okay, then I’ll stay with you.” 

“Go, I’ll drink something.” He says and I follow him out of the room, but he doesn’t take my hand this time (I try not to care too much). 

I spot my friends in the crowd and I go to dance with them. They (we) are all too drunk to dance properly, but it just makes everything funnier. I can feel Baz’s gaze on me from the other side of the room for almost the whole time. 

BAZ

“C’mon, Snow.” I murmur, grabbing his arm when he stumbles on his feet on his way out of the car (I had to call David, because they were all way too drunk to take a taxi). Bunce opens the door of their building with a yawn. 

“Can you handle him? I need to sleep, like now.” She asks and I nod, so she disappears, leaving the entrance open for us. 

Drunk Simon is a mess, he can barely stand on his feet, let alone walk without my help (maybe he is also just a tiny bit adorable). “There you go, Snow. You okay?” I say, closing the door of the car. Mordelia is waiting for me in it, more asleep than awake.

He’s holding into me like a fucking koala on a tree, “m okay.” He murmurs in my coat and then he throws his head back to look at me, his face lights up with a big smile.

“Yeah, I see.” I tease him; he won’t remember anything tomorrow morning, so I just… “You’re absolutely beautiful, you nightmare.”

“M not.” He mumbles, “Thanks for singing to me, darling.” 

My heart flutters. “Thanks for not dancing with anybody else.” I reply, because I can’t really tell him how I feel. 

“Next time I’ll dance with you.” He says and suddenly he starts dangling left and right, holding me against his body. 

Here I am, dancing with Simon Snow on a sidewalk in New York in the middle of the night.  
I’m living a charmed life. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed, Snow.” I say, dragging him with me, trying to keep him on his feet. 

“Oh, yeah!” he exclaims, a little bit too enthusiastically. 

Doing the stairs is even more of a mess, especially because at every single step he tries to kiss me, so we have to stop, but somehow, I manage to take him to his room. He collapses on the bed, bringing me down with him. 

“Hey.” I murmur, pushing his hair back from his forehead. 

“Stay.” He says, kissing the corner of my mouth (he probably wanted do kiss my lips, but he’s too drunk to find them).

“I can’t,” I say, brushing my nose against his cheek, “Gotta go, Delia is waiting downstairs.” 

“Stay,” he repeats with a wicked smile. I feel his fingers slide under the waistband of my trousers, “Stay and have sex with me.” 

Holy fucking shit, Simon Snow wants to have sex with me. The idea sends fireworks down my spine.

But… but.

I have to stop this before the last bit of my self-control evaporates. 

“Snow.” I warn him, while he leaves languid kisses down my neck, “Snow, stop.”

He doesn’t, so I cup his face with my hands, standing on my elbows. “Simon, wait.” 

He looks at me with big, blue eyes that almost convince me to give him what he wants, but that’s not how I want it to happen (and he probably doesn’t either).

“We’re not having sex tonight.” I say and his brow furrows. “You know why?” 

He shakes his head, his eyes suddenly sad. 

“Because I want you too much, to waste our first time like this.” I murmur softly, barely a breath away from his face. I can be honest with him, because he won’t remember my words in the morning. “So when I’ll finally make love to you, it will be unforgettable.”

His eyes get all shiny and he nods a little, removing his hands from my trousers. “Can I have a kiss at least?”

I lean down and I kiss him, soft and low. 

When he’s drifting off, I get up from his bed and I take off his shoes and jeans. I pull him under the blankets and I kiss his forehead, “Goodnight, Simon.” 

“Night.” He replies, “Oh and Baz?” he calls me, when I reach the door.

“What?” 

“I won’t break your heart, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff, I know.   
> Baz is soft to the core. 
> 
> The song "Head over Heels" is the song I'm currently obsessed with, because I'm weak for old songs.   
> Baz's song is Darlin' by The Beach Boys
> 
> Also, someone pointed out that Mordelia in my story is 20 so she isn't old enough to drink alcohol in the US and/or go to a club (a thing that I absolutely didn't know, because where i live it's not like that), so sorry for that! But I won't change it because I need it for the plot, ugh... so just ignore that fact lol 
> 
> Two chapters in two days, yay! I'm definitely back 
> 
> Have a great, great day!   
> Take care x


	21. that shirt and losing clothes

* * *

BAZ

He calls me in the morning (or to be more precise, around 3 pm, but I figure it’s morning for him, as he probably just woke up with a hangover), in an alarmed voice that I don’t quite comprehend at first.

After a few seconds of him just mumbling and saying he is sorry, I cut him off. “Snow, what’s happening?”

“Uhm, did we… did we, you know? We did, didn’t we?” I can feel the panic in his voice and it both amuses me and stresses me out, because if we actually did something that would’ve been his reaction. Maybe he doesn’t want to have sex with me, after all.

“Did what? Went to the club?” I tease him, because I’m an idiot who can’t really manage to have this kind of conversations. “You definitely did and drunk way a bit too much.”

“Yeah, I can tell that,” he sighs, and I can practically see him running his hand through his curls, trying to remember something, anything. He goes quiet for a while and his breath somehow calm me (What kind of spell did you put on me, Simon Snow?); “I do remember you sang to me.”

He says it with such simplicity, that for a while he makes me believe that not only we could actually work out just fine in the end, but also have a happy ending.

Of course, that’s the only thing he remembers; what an incredible idiot I was, to throw all that sentiments at him. I blame it on you, tequila.

“I did.” I murmur back, “What else do you remember?”

“I remember you holding my hand for the whole time. It was nice.” His voice is quite lost in his head and I take the chance to walk through his mind with him, to enjoy all the little details of his soul he’s too tired to hide. “I dreamed we danced together, but we weren’t at the club. It was a lot quieter, like we were alone.”

That wasn’t a dream; we did dance on the street. I find myself trembling a little. “You’re a mess when you’re drunk.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy having an excuse to carry you to your bed.” I smirk, even if he can’t see me.

He sighs again, it comes out shaky. Exhausted. “Please tell me we didn’t have sex when we got home, I’d die if I wasn’t able to remember it.”

“Well…” I say, trying to hide the smile from my lips – from my voice, “We didn’t have sex, even if you were pretty insistent on being laid.”

“Oh, thanks God.” I know his cheeks are red now, by the way his voice comes out muffled, like he’s hiding his face in his hands. I don’t think he intended to say it out loud; “I am so, so sorry, Baz.”

“It’s okay,” I scoff a laugh, because what an idiot he is. Why is he saying he’s sorry for kissing me like that? “You can make it up to me by saying yes.”

“Yes to what?” he asks, I hear him swallow loudly. How I wish he was here with me.

“I have to fly to London on the first week of February, I know it’s a lot of hours of flight and all, but I’d love if you’d come with me.” I say, and then, to not look as desperate for him to say yes as I feel, I add, “For work stuff, I’ll probably need my assistant, you know.”

He snorts, “Not quite what I had in mind, but yes, of course. I’ll come with you, Mr. Pitch.”

“Baz.” I correct him, rolling my eyes. “Are you coming over tonight?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave my bed for like… three days. My head hurts.”

I try to hide my disappointment, “Maybe you shouldn’t drink that much, then.”

“I had fun, c’mon. It was fun, right? Didn’t you have fun?” he mumbles, again caught up in his thoughts.

“Yes, Snow. Breathe.” I tease him, “I guess I’ll see you in three days, then?”

“Yeah…” he replies, his voice hoarse, like he’s finally calmer and his tiredness is taking over his body again.

A few seconds after I close the call, he texts me:

I don’t really want it to be three days, come here when you want x

-

Simon Snow hasn’t been very subtle about what he wants after our night out.

He’s always staring at me; when I’m at my desk, when we’re home and he thinks I’m asleep (he isn’t really good at telling the difference), when I’m drinking my tea, when we’re in meetings.

He’s always casually touching me; when I’m at my desk and he brush his hands against mine looking for papers, when we’re in bed and he caresses my belly, when a breakfast his knee bumps against mine.

And he’s always not so casually touching me, too. When he wakes up in the morning (always before me, always)(if the sun is up, he’s up too), he presses his body – his whole body – against mine, waiting for me to wake up and notice just how much he’s _happy_ to be with me.

It's becoming unbearable.

Not because I don’t like it. Quite the opposite, really. Because I like it way too much.

That’s why today I asked him to come over. Delia is staying at Fiona’s for tonight, so I’ll have Snow all for me.

I may or may not be wearing one of the shirts that rile him up so much, because I’m desperate for him to look at him as he did last Friday night. He notices my shirt as soon as he steps out of the elevator.

He lets his clothes bag fall on the floor, as well as his jaw; his eyes run along my body a few times, slowly and carefully. When his gaze finally meets mine, he surprises me with a big, bright smile. “Wicked.” He whispers.

He closes the distance between us in a flashlight; his hands are in my hair and his lips crash on mine, before I can barely say anything. No needs for words, when he’s kissing me like this.

This man will be the death of me. I’m living a charmed life.

“Hey.” I say against his mouth, when we’re both out of breath.

“I was so hoping to see you in one of these again soon.” He confesses, running his hands on my chest.

“I’m wearing it for a specific reason.” I tell him, sliding my fingers under his tee; warm skin against my cold fingers.

“And what is it?”

For you to look at me like this; for you to take it off of me, I think. “Don’t I owe you some photographs?” I say.

His eyes darken, like I’ve just given him the keys to all the secrets of the universe; but they become sad after a heartbeat. “I don’t have my camera with me.” He sighs, his thumb rubbing against my jaw.

I dramatically roll my eyes and I drag him after me, pulling him by his hand. “Where are we going, Baz?”

I open the door of my office and I watch his face lights up when he sees one of his cameras on my desk. “I thought I lost it, why do you have it?” he asks, his naivety is on a whole other level.

He might need a hint. “Because I thought you might enjoy photographing me, but if you don’t…” I sigh, closing the door, but he stops my movement hastily.

“Don’t you dare.” He laughs and he gets in my office. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning. “We’ll need more than one outfit; I’ve seen Penny’s notes on our article and I know she needs at least three different outfits and some aesthetic shots for the backgrounds… We’ll need a better lightning; with natural light the pics will be way better and we’ll find a couple of different locations. Maybe we should take some shots at our office too, to make it more real…” he tells me in bursts, pointing his camera to different spots to see if they’ll do.

He didn’t really get my hint, but seeing him go all professional is hot. I love when his inner artist comes out like this, it remembers me of our first kiss at the art exhibit.

“Or not.” I say, catching his attention.

“Or… not?” he repeats, like he has no idea what I’m talking about, that maybe I lost my mind (maybe I have).

“These don’t have to be the shots for your article, you know. We could think about those in another moment.” I shrug casually and he lowers the camera from his face to look at me.

“I guess so.” He nods, biting his bottom lip. There he is. “Then we’ll definitely need another location; follow me, Mr. Pitch.” he says and walk out of the door with an evil grin that I’ve never seen on his beautiful face.

He guides me to my room and when I close the door, he turns to me; his camera is hanging from his neck and he pushes me slowly against the bed, till I’m sitting on the edge. He looks like he’s going to kiss me, but he steps back and grab his camera.

“Are you ready?” he asks, with a lot of tenderness in the voice.

“Do your worst.” I tell him and I see his Adam’s apple moves showily under his skin.

He starts taking shots from different angles, asking me to move or look in certain directions; I’d feel dumb if it wasn’t him, but seeing him act like this it’s both exciting and strangely calming. I’d say that this isn’t working him up as I hoped it would (as it is doing it for me), if it wasn’t fore the fact that he keeps licking and biting his lips like he wants to eat me.

SIMON

Baz Pitch is a work of art.

I’m trying to be as professional as I can, but he isn’t making it easy for me, when he stands there and let the world notice that he was created by the Gods at their image of perfection.

I can’t believe he is actually letting me do this. I’m torned between taking as many shots as I can – because I’m not sure if I’ll ever get another chance to have such a beautiful subject – and just throw away my camera and kiss him senseless – and maybe more.

I let him lay on his back and I take a few shots of his face like that, half hidden in the sheets, with his hair falling a little on his forehead.

“Like what you see, Snow?” he asks, his pupils wide blown. I think he might be enjoying this too.

“Actually, yes, Mr. Pitch. I do.” I tell him and he rolls his eyes with a grin.

“You’re art.” I murmur softly and I have the extreme luck of catching his smile in a photograph. This has to be my favourite photo ever.

“You’re just saying that because of the shirt.” He snorts.

“I most definitely am not.”

“Then I can take it off, can’t I?” he asks, smirking. What an insufferable twat.

BAZ

I open one of the buttons of my shirt, but he shouts to stop me, “No, don’t!”

“Why not?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because I want to do that myself.” He replies, with hoarse voice, lowering his camera.

My heart flutters (not just my heart, really). If I don’t have Simon’s hand on me like now, I’m gonna explode. “Then just do it, already.”

“Bossy.” He mocks me, but he gets up and carefully put his camera on my desk. When he looks back at me, his cheeks are bright red, but I smile at him and he get on the bed, his knees on either side of my body and he leans in to catch my mouth with his. “Beautiful.” He says and then he kisses me.

His hands slide under my shirt and he caresses my chest, rubbing his thumb against one of my nipples. I moan shamelessly and he leans back a little, just enough to look at me. “I want you,” he says softly, “like, so much.”

“You have me.” I reply and I kiss his jaw.

He smiles at that, but his eyes are a little worried. “But I’ve never done it before with a guy.”

“We can wait if you’re not ready, you know.” I say and I caress his cheek.

“No! No, no. I can’t wait longer, really.” He scoffs a laugh, “It’s almost embarrassing just how much I can’t wait anymore.”

“Okay, then.” I say and I kiss him, slowly, to give him enough time to pull back whenever he wants to. “You can tell me if you want me to stop, at any time. Okay?”

“Never stop.” He breaths just a heartbeat away from me and then, finally – finally – he unbuttons my shirt. He slides it off my body and then he takes off his tee too.

It doesn’t matter how many one-night stands I had, because nothing ever felt as right as this. As right as Simon’s hands in my hair, his mouth trailing half a billion hickeys on my skin down my chest, his body pressed against mine leaving exactly nothing to imagination.

This feels right, this feels easy.

He laughs when I roll us around and I land on top of him; I kiss his moles, all single one of them, from the one on his cheek, to the one right above his waistband. “Is this still okay?” I ask, leaving a kiss on the fabric of his trousers, right above his cock.

“Yes.” His answer comes shaky and out of breath, but it makes me feel alive alive alive. I slide my fingers under his waistband and I take his trousers down, throwing them on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His hips chase my mouth when I move to his belly, “Patience is a virtue, Snow.” I tease him, trailing kisses under his navel.

“ _Simon_ , please.” He moans, combing my hair with his fingers.

“Simon.” I repeat and I suck at the skin of his abdomen, leaving a red mark. I kiss it, “ _Mine_.”

“Come up here, I need to kiss you.” He says and he grabs my arm, pulling me up to his face. He kisses me like it’s the end of the world.

I have no idea how or when it happened, but at some point we’re both naked, our clothes lost somewhere along the way – I couldn’t care less.

That’s when my brain registers that holy shit I have Simon’s cock pressed against mine. At last.

Simon looks completely melted, but at the same time flustered – if it even makes sense. He’s both a bomb about to explode and a happy mess.

And then I take him in my hand.

SIMON

Fucking hell.

Sex with Baz is absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly the best thing ever happened to me. And I’m not even exaggerating! Well, maybe I am a bit, but at the moment I’m too caught up in sensations to care.

He made me come with a groan or a shout or confused words, I’m not even sure, but I was in ecstasy. I hope I was, too. I hope he liked it just half as much as I did.

We didn’t exactly go all the way to actually have sex, but it was fucking amazing nonetheless. I can’t feel my bones, even if I’m sure I have some of them left in my body.

I’m laying on my belly, melted. “Holy shit,” I murmur.

Baz laughs from somewhere behind me and I feel his hand slide under my chest and pulling me closer to his chest. “You’re not that bad yourself, Simon.” He laughs and he bites my shoulder. My heart shutters; he’s calling me Simon since when I asked him to earlier and it just makes everything more real. Soft Baz is my favourite Baz.

“Not that bad,” I snort, “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll change that ‘not bad’ into a ‘fucking great’.”

I feel his smile against my skin, “Promises, promises…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it happened! Aren't they cute?  
> I'm not (and i probably never will be) ready to write sex! So, this is the maximum of smut you'll have lol
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter nonetheless! 
> 
> Also, isn't consent sexy? It is. 
> 
> Take care x


	22. mine and yours

SIMON

“What are you thinking about?” Baz asks, rubbing his nose in my hair (which is probably a little sweaty after what we just did, but he doesn’t seem to mind). We’re laying in my bed, which is way less comfy and smaller than his, but somehow with Baz in it, it looks like the best bed ever existed in the history of beds.

Baz is very happy today and very very naked in my arms. I can tell that he is happy by the way his grey eyes, that are always a little sad even when he’s laughing, are all shiny and full of wonder. “I’m thinking that we could have done this much sooner and save me all that sexual frustration…” I laugh against his chest. Truth is, at first I wouldn’t have done this with him, because of the way Baz treated me (what an insufferable twat he was). I don’t know if something is wrong with me, but I’m really not attracted to people in that way, until we have some sort of bond. Maybe I’m broken, aren’t boys supposed to want to have sex all the time?

“I didn’t want you to be just a one-night stand, so I’m happy we waited.” He murmurs softly. All the honesty in his statement makes me shiver like a leaf in the wind. Falling falling falling and crushing softly on the ground.

“And what do you want me to be, exactly?” I ask, because I can’t quite keep myself, I can’t lose this chance of knowing the truth.

“Mine.” He says simply after a moment, like it’s all there for me to see, if I just look closer. His voice is so determined that I let myself believe him.

Being his isn’t even as scary as it should be, when he’s holding me like I’m the one thing in the world that keeps him from drowning and disappearing.

I hum against his skin, leaving a kiss on his chest. “I like how that sounds.” Another kiss, two, three. “And you mine.”

He squeezes my arm, gently but firmly. He doesn’t deny, but neither confirm that he is, in fact, mine. Maybe I can let it go, just for now. I’m able to let it go because I’m not really sure if I’m worth having Baz. He’s so perfect and I’m just… Simon.

The first thing I’ve noticed about Baz, that first time he got in the office like he was doing a catwalk, was that he looked like someone who knew everything he needed to know about the world. Now, I’m not sure anymore if Baz has it really all figured out; sometimes I think he’s just struggling like all of us, trying to find his own place on this messy planet.

(How I wish his place in this universe was in my arms.)

“This is not a relationship, Simon.” He says softly, like a whisper; I don’t think he says it to hurt me, but something in me aches nonetheless.

“How is this any different from a relationship, honestly?” I blur out, but I try to keep my voice low and steady, not quite willing to fuck everything up, but wanting him to hear me loud and clear. “I literally can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed without you in it or the last time we spent a weekend apart. We have sex and kiss and eat together and you keep calling me yours…”

He sighs, like he’s exhausted, “Drop it, please.”

I roll my eyes loudly and I get on top of him: my knees on either side of his hips, my hands sink in the mattress on the sides of his head. “I can’t.”

He looks at me with blown pupils, his lips slightly parted. I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or aroused. To be honest, I’m both.

“Please?” he tries. I’m not sure if this is a ‘please stop’ or a ‘please go on’, but he lifts his hips against mine, making me shiver again.

“You are mine.” I proclaim, “otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.” I lean down and I kiss his jaw, languidly, passionately. “Or this,” I say and I take one of his nipple in my mouth, licking it. He tries to swallow a moan, but he doesn’t succeed.

“To be fair,” he groans and I feel his nails sink in the skin of my back, “a lot of people got to do that and I barely knew their names, so it’s not really a parameter to prove, ah” he gasps when I bite his skin with frustration, “your point.”

“Fuck you.” I snort and my hand wrap around his cock, giving it a slow stroke. “You’re an insufferable, posh twat.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and his head falls back against the pillow.

“You don’t want me to drop it anymore at this point, don’t you?” I tease him, stroking him again as slow as I can.

“Fuck you.” He echoes me.

“Say it.” I order, setting a pace, looking at how his expression changes every time I move my hand.

“What?” he’s out of breath already.

“That you are mine as I’m yours.”

“Shut up, Snow. Don’t make me angry kiss you.”

“I am the one angry kissing you, you insufferable twat!” I snort and I leave a love-bite on his abdomen. I trail hickeys on his body, each of them followed by a “Mine!” to prove my point.

At this point, Baz is a shivering mess, coming apart under my touch and to my extreme satisfaction, he comes shouting my name (not Snow, but my proper name. Simon)(since when I’ve asked him to, every time we’ve had sex, he’s called me Simon and it makes me soft), toes curling and body shaking.

I finally reach his mouth and I kiss him, before he even comes back to Earth. “Mine.” I murmur between kisses, right against his lips.

What I really want is for him to admit that he actually cares about me, about us; because I’m way too caught up in this and I need to know that he is, too.

He bites my cheek, tenderly, careful not to hurt me. “You should angry kiss me more often.” He murmurs, his hands playing with my hair.

“I will if you keep being careless about this.” I roll my eyes, because he isn’t really listening to me. “Or maybe I won’t kiss you at all.”

I pinch his hip. “What was that for?” he gasps, his brow furrowed.

“Listen to me, please.” I tell him, so deeply sincere that my voice almost cracks.

He nods, slowly. “What do you need?” he asks, but he isn’t teasing anymore. His grey eyes utterly, completely focused on mine.

“I want things from you.” I whisper.

“Things like what?” I feel his body tense, his eyes running away from mine.

“I want you to look at me.”

He scoffs a laugh, like he just heard the most idiotic thing ever. “I look at you all the time.”

“And I want you to tell me stuff and hold me and just… let me in. Let me be with you, as you’re with me.” I tell him, struggling to find the right words. “Let me in, Baz.”

“Can’t you see that you’re already everywhere?” he whispers after a while, “You’re in everything I do, Simon Snow.”

I kiss the corner of his mouth, to hide a sad smile. A million questions trying to blur out of my mouth, “Then what’s this relationship-thing about? Is that because you don’t like me enough? Because I’m not enough? Am I doing something wrong-?”

“Stop it, no. Don’t ever think for a minute that you are not enough, okay? You are more than enough.” he interrupts me, a finger on my lips. “Jesus Christ, Snow. You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You have to see just how rare, how special you are. Give yourself more credit.” My cheeks turn red and his eyes are suddenly too much… I try to retort, but he doesn’t let me. “I’m not only talking about now; you never see how wonderful you are.”

“If it’s not my fault, what is it? You said it was about you not having enough time, but we’re already staying all the time together, so it can’t be that.”

He sighs, but he finally gives up. “Relationships always end breaking hearts and I can’t do that to you.” He says it so softly that I barely hear him. I feel like a lightning just stroke me.

Oh. “Oh,” I whisper; I feel tears trying to roll down my eyes and I’m not even sure why. Then it hit me, “That’s why you sang to me that words the other night: don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart, don’t throw it away.”

He looks away, nodding once. I can read on his face that he thought I didn’t remember it and that he hoped I wouldn’t. “I won’t break your heart.” I feel like something is cracking inside of me, I can feel it fall apart inside my chest.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me,” I tell him and I turn his face to mine, I rub my thumb against his cheekbone, trying to reassure him. “I don’t want to break your heart. And I’m sorry if someone already broke it, but I’m not that someone.”

“You can’t promise that you won’t, you have no idea what could happen in a year. Hell, you can’t know what will happen tomorrow.” He looks defeated. I think that he might have repressed these scars for longer that I can imagine.

“But I can promise that I will try my best not to hurt you, because that’s the last thing I want to do.” I tell him and I brush my nose against the top of his. “I want to be with you while you figure your life out, I want to be with you every step of the way.”

“You’ve known me for like three months.”

“Then imagine just how deep my feelings for you are.” I snap back and only now I realize just how true this is (it’s kinda scary, actually)(I can’t be scared now, I have to be brave).

His jaw flinches shut, like he’s biting down his words.

“You do not have to decide everything now, I’m sorry for being insistent. You have all the time in the world, I’m not going anywhere.” I reassure him and leave a tiny kiss on his cheek. I can see the pain in his eyes and I wonder who hurt him this bad in the past; it makes me want to punch the wall.

“You hear me? I’m not going anywhere.” I repeat, because he looks so distant that he might as well be on another planet.

“Stop saying it, you can’t promise it.” He croaks with hoarse voice, like it hurts to speak.

“I can and I do.”

That’s when the first tear falls from his eyes, rolling down his cheek. “My mom left.” He mutters, breaking his last wall.

It hits me like a tornado.

“Oh, Baz…” I breath out; I slide my arms under his body and I hug him as tightly as I can. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

My heart aches, everything hurts. I’m such an idiot.

“She didn’t leave you, she loved you.” I murmur softly. I don’t know what to say, I feel awful. I just want to hold him till the world disappears and it’s just the two of us. “She loved you, how could she not? You are the most intelligent, kind, sweet soul.”

He's laying perfectly stills and he could be sleeping, if it wasn’t for his shaky breath; I feel his tears roll from his cheek to mine, pressed together as we are.

I keep murmuring in his ear till he eventually stops crying or maybe he’s just out of tears. “I don’t want to feel that pain again.” He says after a while, his voice cracks a little.

“But you will.” I reply, “Because grief is the price for love. You can’t avoid it in the same way you can’t avoid life.”

I’d take his pain away, if I could.

“I can’t bear your pain for you, even if I tried… but I can hold you till you feel better. That’s why we met in the first place, you know? To make life bearable. Love is worth suffering a bit, don’t you think? To have someone to stand by you and listen to you and walk by your side.”

BAZ

I haven’t cried for my mom in years and suddenly Simon is awakening all these feeling in me I thought were well hidden somewhere very deep in my soul. Forgotten. But I’m lying. I’d never forget my mom.

And now I’ve blur it all out.

Simon is holding me like he’s trying to keep my pieces together and I want to tell him that the dust of my soul has already been dispersed by the wind years ago, that it’s too late to save me. But I don’t. Because he makes me feel like maybe I’m worth being saved, that maybe we can find a way to do it together.

“Sorry, this is stupid, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I say and I wipe my cheeks. I don’t want him to pity me, I don’t want him to look at me like I’m broken. Even if I am.

“This isn’t stupid at all.” He says, strengthening the grip on my body. “The _soul_ needs to be as cuddled as the body.”

Oh, Simon Snow. What a miracle you are.

I find myself holding him back before I can even think of doing it, because somehow, I feel like mine isn’t the only soul that needs to be cuddled.

“You’ll breathe again.” He tells me, his voice full of certainty.

“Please, please, please don’t go away if you say you’ll stay.” I whisper and I’m not sure if I’m hoping he’ll hear me or not.

“I won’t. I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me.” He replies. He kisses the skin under my ear softly, like I’m something precious.

We’re not there yet, but I think I can trust him enough to let him in.

“You can tell me about your mom, if you want to.” He says cautiously.

I don’t even know what to say; what can I tell you about her, Snow? That she was amazing, a fighter. That she taught me to love books, to be generous, loyal and kind, to never let my voice go unheard.

My mom taught me everything, except how to deal pain; except how to be without her.

But I’m just not ready to describe the deepest wrinkles of my heart to him, because I’m terrified he might not understand how I’m feeling.

“Or not, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He adds, after a minute of silence.

I lean my lips against his forehead.

“I never had a mom,” he says, “So I can’t really understand how you’re feeling, nor I want to pretend I do, because it wouldn’t be right. I won’t always say the right thing – in fact, I’ll probably say the wrong ones half of the time – but I want you to know that you can always, always, always tell me how you’re feeling, what’s on your mind, what you’ve been through. I’ll always listen to you. The only thing I ask in return is that you don’t shut me out. I want you to talk to me, even if it’s difficult or embarrassing or tiring. Just talk to me and I’ll be there for you, okay?”

How wonderful and dangerous you are, Simon. Ready to turn upside down my soul, my mind, my heart.

“I never had a relationship.” I tell him, because I owe him that much, “I didn’t want to let anyone close enough to hurt me. It was always just sex for me, there hasn’t been anything else; till you.”

“I’ll gladly be your first boyfriend,” he replies, “when you’re ready.”

He doesn’t say ‘if’, he says ‘when’, because he’s sure that I’m not a lost cause, that I’m not hopeless. If only I could believe it too.

“What about you?” I ask him.

“I’ve only had a girlfriend; her name was Agatha – well, is Agatha, she ain’t dead – we’ve been together during all college years. She was great, but I just didn’t feel what I was supposed to feel for her. She left me for another guy a month before we graduated. It was awful, but if I think about it now… it didn’t hurt as much as it was supposed to hurt. I mean, at some point I was sure we would’ve married.” He laughs, like it’s the most stupid thing that he could have done, “Luckily, I didn’t make that mistake, or I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Did you love her?”

“I did, but it was more the kind of love I feel for Elly or Sam… As I said, not what I was supposed to feel for her.”

“Thanks for telling me,” I say, squeezing his body to mine.

He raises his head and kisses both my eyelids, still wet for tears. He gets up, all naked and glorious, “Come, let’s take a shower.”

“Together?”

“ _Together_ ,” he nods and he offers me his hand.

I let Simon Snow wash my hair; it’s both terrifying and invigorating. He holds me for the whole time and he hums a song in my ear, while the water run off of us in droplets.

“When I come home, oh I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you  
And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.”

Simon Snow is singing and thinking about the future, he’s thinking about me and he’s thinking about us. Maybe this can be easy if I’m brave enough to let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I'm a bit emotional today?  
> This chapter was a bit of a rollercoaster to write.
> 
> They needed to talk, Baz needed to let go and Simon needed to understand.  
> They did it all. A lot of healing still needs to done.
> 
> Simon's song is 500 Miles by Proclaimers (one of my all time favourite songs, in case you were wondering)(yes, all my favourite songs are from like 70s and 80s, because I'm an old soul)
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, even if it's probably not what you expected!  
> Also, 100 kudos?! Thank you all so much.
> 
> Take care x


	23. warm blankets and the whiteboard again

SIMON

Penny gets home a while after we’ve sunk into the couch, with more pillows and blankets that I can count and two mugs of hot cocoa. Baz is feeling a little better after our shower (and I am too); we haven’t spoken about his mom or our relationship again, but it’s okay for now. I want to give him all the time he needs.

“Uh, traitors!” Penny snorts when she sees us, she drops her bag and her coat on the armchair

“Your mug is on the kitchen counter, I didn’t forget about you.” I laugh lightly and her eyes shine, like I’ve just given her a beautiful gift. She sits in the armchair a while later, drinking her cocoa with satisfaction.

“So what have you been up to today?” I ask, because the silence is a bit uncomfortable at the moment.

“I’ve been shopping with Mordelia and Shepard;” she shrugs, sipping. “to be fair, she did the shopping and Shep and I spent all day at the library, but it was fun anyway.”

“You’re spending quite some time with Shepard, aren’t you?” I tease her, because we’ve already talked about this. (I’m always the one bringing it up).

“Just because he’s the only acquittance I have who knows how to read.” She snaps back.

“I read.” Baz crocks out and I look at him to make sure he’s okay, but he seems fine, just a little tired (I think that all the cuddles did their job).

“Well, if you ever want to go to the library, you have my number.”

“I… don’t?” he cocks an eyebrow at her.

“I work for you, I’m sure you could have it if you committed.” She shrugs again, “What about you, what did you do today? I hope you respected the no-sex in shared areas of the house rule.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah we did.” I say, nodding dramatically in Baz’s direction, “Didn’t we?”

“Oh, we did…” he nods back just as theatrically, “But we can’t promise anything about your bed.”

“Yeah, sorry, Pen. It is what it is. You didn’t say anything about your bed. Didn’t she?”

“No, she did not.” Baz agrees and we both burst out laughing at Penny’s expression. We didn’t do anything, really, but this is too funny not to mock her.

“I hate you both.” She rolls her eyes, but there is the ghost of amusement on her face, “but I can forgive you for being idiots as this is the best hot cocoa ever.” The Christmas tree’s lights reflect on her glasses and makes her eyes all shiny and colourful.

“Oh,” says Baz, reading his phone, “Fiona is flying to London tomorrow and she isn’t coming back till January. She’ll lose Christmas.”

I grab his hand under the blanket, hoping he doesn’t mind being touched (he doesn’t, he squeezes mine back).

“Well, she won’t lose it, they have Christmas in England too, you know.” Penny tells him and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but she’ll lose Christmas with us, Delia and me.” He sighs, “We wanted to go to the Hamptons.”

“I can be your aunt for Christmas if you bring me to the Hamptons.” Penny says pouting out her bottom lip, like a puppy seeking attention.

“You can come here, if you want.” I tell him and his eyes soften.

“Wouldn’t want to bother and I can’t leave my sister alone, but thanks for asking.” He replies with the tiniest smile.

“Delia is invited too, of course.” I reassure him, “And Penny would probably like if she brought Shepard with her. Penny’s family is coming over, it will be fun.” (Penny tries to kill me with a glance when I say Shepard’s name, but I ignore her).

“Simon wanted to ask you to come anyway – he hasn’t spoken about anything but you and Christmas for the last days, actually – so it would be great if you came, as Simon’s Christmas present; what do you say?”

“Unless I have to wear a gift bow on my head, it’s a yes.” He nods and I can’t keep a smile; I kiss his cheek in gratitude.

"Maybe I'll make you wear a Christmas sweater like mine, who knows." I shrug and his horrified expression makes me laugh. 

"Not in this lifetime, Snow." 

I think I could convince him to wear one, if I really committed to it. (I think Baz knows too)(that's why he is horrified.)

“So, what are we watching tonight?” Penny asks, bringing the remote from the coffee table.

“Uh, I have to head home… I have to say goodbye to Fiona before she leaves, see if she needs help reaching the airport and stuff like that.” Baz says, carefully letting go of my hand and removing the blanket from his legs.

“You know, Boss,” Penny tells him, using her teacher voice (literally the voice she uses 90% of the time with me), “you’re not half as selfish as I thought you were.”

Oh Penny, you have no idea just how generous Baz is.

“You’re just _as_ annoying as I thought you were,” he snaps back and pinches her shoulder, “but I can deal with that.”

I love seeing them like this; my two favourite human beings getting along.

I get up from the couch too and I follow Baz to the kitchen, where is putting his mug in the sink. “Are you sure you have to go?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I gotta go, even if I’d rather sleep here.” He shrugs and when he turns around, I hug him, tightly. He isn’t even surprised, immediately holding me back.

“I’d rather you did it too.” I tell him, but it comes out muffled as my face is pressed against his chest. Because as the insufferable twat he is, of course he’s taller than me. (Not that I’m complaining, because he can wrap me like a blanket from head to toes.)

“I’ll see you tomorrow at office, anyway. I’ll probably be late, as I’ll drive Fiona to the airport.” He murmurs in my hair.

“Good, I have tons of work to do and it’s much easier if you’re not there to distract me.”

“Oh, so I’m the one distracting you?” he snorts, “You and all that brushing fingers, hands on my shoulder…” I press a hand against his mouth.

“Shut up, Mr. Pitch.” I laugh and he kisses my palm tenderly. Maybe I haven't been as subtle as I think I was, oops.

His eyes are still sad, but his mood is remarkably lighter.

We stay there, just holding each other in silence, for a few minutes, then I let him go. I follow him to the door and I watch as he wear his coat, that is extremely posh as always.

“So… I guess this is when I kiss you goodnight?” he says and he pulls me closer by my hand.

“You better.” I snap back and I place my hands on his chest.

He kisses me and it’s warm and it feels like home, even if he’s leaving and I already was home. I can feel words rolling off his lips, despite him not saying anything at all – not with his voice, anyway.

I try to do the same. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, you’re amazing. I’m sorry._

He places a last kiss on the corner of my mouth and leans his forehead against mine. I feel his hot breath on my face and it’s almost enough to ask him to stay, but I manage not to, because I can’t be selfish with him. Not when he opened up his heart for me ( _Not that you gave him much choice_ – says the little voice in my head, but I do my best to ignore it).

“Are you gonna be okay?” I whisper. He’s so close that I can’t see anything but they grey of his eyes.

He’s quiet for a bunch of seconds, thinking about it, then he nods. “Yes.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“Yes.” This time he says it without hesitation.

“Goodnight, then, Mr. Pitch.”

He kisses the top of my nose, “Goodnight, Simon.”

And then he’s gone, walking away in this cold December night in the city that never sleeps.

(Is it too early to text him already?)(Probably.)

“Penny! I’ve got the biggest of problems!” I shout and I come back to the couch; she looks from her phone to me with her brow furrowed.

“What is it?”

“What gift do I buy to my not-boyfried for our Christmas together? It needs to say both “you are absolutely amazing” and “I know I’m such an idiot, but please don’t ever leave me”. Any ideas?”

“First of all, you truly are an idiot.” She says and I throw a pillow at her.

“Thank you very much, Penny.”

“Second, you could literally buy him an empty box and he would cherish it as the best gift ever because you gave it to him.” She says, rolling her eyes at my expression. “Seriously, can’t you see how he looks at you?”

“Maybe,” I shrug, but I’m not sure she’s right, “but I want him to be happier than ever at Christmas, so it has to be something special.”

“Fine.” She sighs and she gets up from the armchair, “Come to my room.”

I sit on her bed while she brings her whiteboard; she writes, ‘present for a not-boyfriend’ (she wrote just boyfriend, but I added the not).

“So, what are the things we know about Baz?” she asks and removes the cap from the marker.

“Oh,” I squeeze my eyes, “we know that he likes expensive clothes…”

“What else?”

“Oh, he loves books more than anything and his family; he likes flying, he told me so once. He has never been ice-skating because he says just the thought of it makes him cold. We know that he’s extremely beautiful and tender and –“

“Stop it, stop it, stop it.” Penny cuts me off, “Stick on the gift, I don’t want you to give me a headache about how beautiful he is.”

“Okay,” I shrug, come back a little to reality, “but he is beautiful.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Penny says honestly and I pinch her arm laughing (I know she means nothing with this, she’s just being honest because that’s how we are with each other). “So, book and clothes, what else?”

“He likes my photographs.” I tell her and I feel my cheeks turn red, thinking about the time he let me photograph him.

“Yeah, on that matter, when are we doing our article?”

“After the holidays, probably.” I don’t wanna bother him now, I hope Penny understands (she does)(She always does).

She nods distantly. “Are you buying anything for Shepard?” I ask her and she rolls her eyes.

“Why would I?”

“Oh, you know why.” I laugh, teasing her.

“Concentrate on your boyfriend.” She snorts.

“ _Not_ -boyfriend,” I correct her, “but I think I have an idea. I need Mordelia’s help.”

I hope I’ll make Baz as happy as he makes me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this fic, I hoped we would arrive at the Christmas chapter around Christmas, but... it will arrive much sooner than that. 
> 
> Also, yesterday I was feeling miserable and hopeless, so I wrote a heartwrecking chapter about Simon and his childhood traumas. It's really exhausting; but I'll post it anyways, because what is life without some suffering (and they need to heal, so they need to face their problems!). I just have to decide when to post it. 
> 
> I hope you're all happy and feeling loved. And valid. You are.  
> Take care x


	24. Christmas Shopping and What If

BAZ

I’m not saying I panicked, because Pitch don’t panic, but I may have freaked out just a little bit when I realised I said yes to Simon. Why did I agree to spend Christmas with Snow and his family? 

(Because he held you for most of the day and cuddled you and he was there when you were crying. Because he said he’s gonna be there for you. That’s why.)(Can’t the stupid voice in my head just shut up?)

The problem is that I am absolutely happy that I accepted his invitation; the problem is not even this. 

It’s that I’ve been too caught up in Simon Snow to realize how deep I’ve fallen for him. If I realized it sooner, I might have retreated in time to spare me this, but I’ve just kept sinking and sinking more deeply till no parts of me could be saved. 

And now I’m not even sure I want to be saved from him – from this - anymore. 

It’s just… Simon is always so soft and warm. He’s always ready to silently be there for me, even when I didn’t ask him to. He’s trying so hard not to screw things up, that I find myself thinking that maybe – maybe – he means it when he says he won’t leave, he won’t walk away from me. 

Is Simon Snow worth risking it all?  
It’s terrifying how simple the answer to this question is. I’m just not brave enough to pronounce it yet. 

So, I panicked because what gift could I give him that says both “I’m sorry I’m an asshole” and “I may have changed my mind about the whole this-is-not-a-relationship thing”? I don’t even know if he stills wants this to be a proper relationship after everything I’ve made him go through, after all the times I told him it wasn’t. 

I have no idea how these things work. I’m new to this weird world of relationships. 

So I do the only thing that can actually help me in this moment: I go shopping with Mordelia. 

“Do I want to know why you decided to spend all day with me at the mall? This hasn’t happened since… when? You graduation?” Delia asks, checking out a dress on a mannequin. 

“Is it so impossible to believe that I’d spend a day with you when I see you like three weeks a year?” I snort, putting the phone back in my pocket. 

“Oh, my God. Are you sick?” she asks turning back to me, eyes wide open “Holy hell, are you dying?” 

“No, asshole. I’m not dying.” I snap back, rolling my eyes. 

“Then what is it?” She looks at me with suspicion, like I’ve written on my face something that may betrays me. “Tell me, c’mon!” She insists, pocking my hip. 

“I just thought I could use some, you know… Christmas shopping.” I shrug, like I haven’t just dropped the biggest bomb ever, because I’m sure my sister will definitely understand all the attached to my statement. 

“…For your boyfriend.” She nods casually, her voice no more than a whisper (a habit we’ve developed through the years; it’s better not to say things like this too loud when we’re in public)(not even when we’re with our father, to be fair). 

“I already told you he is not my boyfriend.” I roll my eyes, maybe this is just a habit too. How can I ask my little sister relationship advices? 

“And I already told you that this is just bullshit.” She shrugs and I wait for her to pay for some expensive dress. When she gets out of the shop, she picks exactly where she left minutes ago, “Why can’t you just call it a relationship?” 

“You know I don’t do relationships.” 

“Yeah, sure. Super independent Baz doesn’t need anything or anyone etcetera, I know. Why can’t you let someone love you for once and see how it goes?” 

This takes me a little off guard and for some reason, wrecks a few of my walls. “Do you think… he loves me?” This time I’m the one whispering and not because I don’t want people to hear me (Because, honestly, if Simon Snow loved me I could scream it from the top of my lungs right now). I’m whispering because I’m not ready to affirm something like that light-hearted. What if it isn’t true?

But what if is true, instead?  
Oh, that would be the greatest luck of my life.

“Basil, seriously, if I had someone who look at me the way your Simon looks at you, I’d already be married at this point.” 

My Simon. Is Simon mine? I know I’ve told him plenty of times that he is, but I don’t know just how much strong this bond is. It’s not like I want to own him, I just want him to know that he’ll always find me by his side. 

“I’ve known him for three months, Delia.” I roll my eyes, “And I’ve been an ass with me for half of the time.” 

“Who cares? What matters is that from now on you treat him how he deserves to be treated.” She takes me by arm with a bright smile, “Come, we’ll talk about this over a waffle.” 

She, in fact, buys me a waffle, because she’s a good sister. She sits in front on me at the little square table. “So, what are you gonna do about his whole situation?”

“What do you mean, what I’m gonna do?” I cock an eyebrow at her, biting my waffle. She looks a bit amused, but I try to ignore it as best as I can. 

“Well, he has invited you to spend Christmas with his family. This is like… important, you know. Meeting his family and all. This was his move, what’s yours?” she speaks to me like I’m some sort of kid who doesn’t get what she’s saying. 

Suddenly I feel trapped. “You think this is why he asked me to go?” 

She inhales deeply, squeezing her eyes. “How could you graduate with the highest grades and yet be so stupid? He isn’t doing it to put you with your back to the wall nor to imprison you. He’s doing it because he cares about you and want you to be happy. He didn’t want to know you were alone on Christmas – not that you would’ve been, because you had me, but still.” 

“How can you tell? You barely know him.” 

“Because I’m not as oblivious as you. Or him. I saw the way his eyes soften when he looks at you and I saw the way he tries to make you smile all the time; he handles you, even when you are insufferable.” She rolls her eyes, “Listen, I’m not saying that you have to figure your life out in this moment. I’m just saying that you need to put aside all the pain and fear and loss. You have to let yourself be happy.” 

“What if it doesn’t last?” I croak out, because I’m miserable. 

“Then you keep all the memories and move on.” She grabs my hand over the table and when our gazes meet, she smiles but her eyes are quite sad. “You can’t avoid life forever, Baz. Stop running from happiness just because you fear what’s on the other side of it.” 

Struck and sunk. 

My little sister, barely twenty years old, is teaching me how to live (and she isn’t even doing a bad job). How much more miserable can I become? 

“I don’t know what to do.” I tell her, honesty pouring out of my lips like milk and honey. 

“Would you trade what you have with Simon for anything else?” 

I bite the inside of my cheek, because I feel overwhelmed. I shake my head, “No, I wouldn’t trade Snow for anything in the world.”

“Then here’s your answer: don’t. Don’t lose him out of carelessness, let him know how you feel.” 

“I don’t even know myself how I feel.” 

“You have something to work on, then.” She shrugs. 

“Guess so.” 

“And don’t cut him out, stop doing that.” She squeezes my hand, “Stop cutting me out, too.” 

Because apparently this is a thing I do; cutting people out of my life. It’s easier this way. 

Maybe I should stop doing it, but it looks terrifying, because then I’d have to lean on other people and they’d probably let me fall at some point.

“Thanks, Delia, for everything. I’m glad you came to New York,” I tell her and then, just to play down, I add, “Uninvited, but still.” 

She kicks my foot laughing, “I’m glad I came here too.” 

“…So, what do I buy him for Christmas?” 

-

Mordelia wasn’t really helpful on what to buy him, because she doesn’t in fact really know him, but we’ve found a solution that I hope will make him happy. It sure as hell makes me happy. I won’t let this scare me, I won’t. Happiness is fine, as Mordelia said. I can try. 

Delia said that Simon is probably waiting for my next move, so I decided to checkmate Simon Snow. 

I can’t wait anymore. I want everything and I want it now. 

When I finally land on my bed at the end of the day, I feel absolutely exhausted, but somehow fine. There’s only one thing that could make this better and it has blue eyes.

Blue eyes, bronze curls. 

I think of Simon Snow and the fact that he’s the most amazing human being alive.   
That he’s mine and he said he’ll stay.

The fact that Simon Snow is alive. 

And I’m hopelessly in love with him. 

I try to sleep, but it’s not easy without Snow’s warm body pressed against mine; my bed has never been colder than tonight. 

I call Simon two times, but he doesn’t answer. 

I try to ignore the sadness and anxiety that rise in my belly, because I know that this is illogical. 

Snow is fine, he’s probably just sleeping or even more probably he’s doing a movie marathon with Bunce. 

Everything is fine, Simon is fine, we are fine. 

Tomorrow is Sunday and I’ll ask Simon to become my boyfriend and we’ll cuddle and kiss a lot. 

(If he says yes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz is coping with his feelings. I'm proud of him.  
> (Please, note that I just literally described the relationship I have with my brother, more or less ahahah)
> 
> Also, I'm saying sorry in advance for next chapter (it's a bit of tragic), which is already ready to be posted and will be up tomorrow! 
> 
> I hope y'all are happy and safe!  
> Take care x


	25. bad day and grey sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: depression

SIMON

I can feel _it_ even before I open my eyes.

I feel it in my bones, cracking under the weight of being me; I feel it in my hands, shaking like it’s too cold outside to do anything but exist; I feel it in the way my eyelids won’t crack open. Too heavy.

This is a bad day. Maybe I’m just gonna lie here until death swallows me in one bite.

Who would miss me, after all? The coffee machine at work would be the only one to notice I’m gone.

Disappeared, like a cloud in the wind.

I’m all fucked up.

My body is falling, falling, falling and I’m waiting for the impact on the ground, but the more I fall, the farther the soil looks.

I just want this pain to be over.

I try to make my body work properly and I get out of bed. I check the time on my phone.

It’s 6 am and I have two missed call from Baz. A text that says, _Are you coming over today?_ x

 _Sorry, Baz, but I won’t_ , I think, but right now I can’t bear to write it, so I just turn off my phone and I shove it in my pocket. I wear the first clothes I find and I get out of my room, as quietly as possible. I’ll just take a few hours off the world, in order not to ruin neither Penny’s day nor Baz’s.

They won’t even notice I’m gone for a while. That’s the plan.

That’s what I tell myself when I disappear in the foggy Sunday morning, in the city that suffers from insomnia.

BAZ

When I get up, I instinctively reach out my arm looking for Simon’s warm body, but the sheets are cold. I hate waking up alone, since when I found out how waking up next to Simon Snow is like. It’s warm and fuzzy, it makes you wish you could spend the day in your bed with him.

Today is the day, I tell myself. Don’t retreat now, you coward. I think about Simon for a while. About the way his curls look golden in the sun, about the constellations of freckles and moles on his back, on his shoulders, on his face.

I stretch my arms and I grab my phone from the nightstand, hoping to see Simon’s name on the display; there is nothing but e-mails from work and a couple of texts from Fiona. It’s past 9 am, he should be awake now.

I text him the good morning, just to be sure he knows I’m awake, in case he was waiting to call me.

After breakfast, I slowly start cooking the receipt Rosa gave me; she offered to cook it herself for me, but as I want today to be as special as I can, I want to do it myself (even if it will be less delicious than what she could’ve cooked)(I hope Simon won’t mind the food not being as good as usual).

I asked Delia to be away from home today, because I need the home all for myself – well, ourselves. She’ll be at Shepard’s all day, so we’re good. Everything will be perfect, I hope.

Now the only thing that isn’t where I want it to be is Simon, who hasn’t called yet, by the way. Not that I’ve been compulsively checking my phone every three minutes.

What are you doing, Snow? Don’t leave me hanging like this.

That’s not until midday, when the food is in the oven, that I try to call him again. His phone is turned off.

Holy fucking Hell, Simon Snow!

This is so not Simon that I’m wearing my coat even before I notice that my feet are moving toward the door. He always answers my calls after like two rings and now we’re at three missed calls.

Is he mad at me? I do a rapid check of what I may have done to piss him off lately, but I can’t remember anything. Probably I haven’t even noticed that I’ve been an ass. Why am I like this?

But…

What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt or sick?

I don’t even call David, I just take one of my cars and I drive to his place. The goalkeeper let me in (he does recognize me by now) and I knock furiously at the door of his apartment.

Penny opens it and sighs when she sees me, “I was wondering when you’d come.”

“Where is he?” I ask, moving my weight from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know.” She replies.

“Bullshit,” I roll my eyes and I get in the apartment, without waiting for her permission (I know I’m being rude, but I’ll be kind when I know that Simon is safe)(and not mad at me).

“Baz, wait.” She calls behind me, but I don’t stop. I knock on Simon’s room’s door. There is nothing but silence. I open it slightly.

“Snow?” I call.

But the room is empty.

“What...?” I mumble, “Where is he?” I ask again, turning to Penny, who’s staring at me with her mouth shut in a hard line. Panic is shaking all my body like I’m being electrocuted.

“I told you, I don’t know.” She replies, “He left.”

He left. What? How? Why?

I feel like my body can’t move; or it can’t stay still, I’m not sure. Every single nerve ending of my body is clamouring like a storm.

“Why would he leave?” I whisper, “He lives here. Was he this mad at me? What did I do wrong?”

“It’s not about you, Baz.” She tells me. Only now I notice that Penny is wearing her boots and a jacket, “It’s just… Simon sometimes has bad days.”

“What does it mean? Is he safe? Where did he go?” My head is spinning at 50 miles per second.

“I don’t know where he is, I’ve looked for him all morning. Then I decided to wait a bit for you, so we could seek him together.” She sounds exhausted, “It happens from time to time, he just disappears. He always comes back, though. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? Don’t worry?! “Why was he sad?” I ask her, because I can’t really understand, “Why didn’t he talked about it with you? Or me?”

“Listen, Baz. It’s not about us, it’s about Simon. I’ve known him for years and I know that sometimes Simon’s head is crowded with bad thoughts; I don’t know why it happened today, but I know he disappeared because he didn’t want to bother us with his sadness. It’s about his childhood and you can’t blame yourself for this, not now.” She sighs, “So, are you coming to look for him or not?”

“Where do we start?” I ask her, nodding seriously. He needs help, he needs us, Penny and me. I can’t let my mind wander when he can be in danger.

We’re out of the building in a flashlight, Penny tells me more on our way (to where, I don’t know). Our breath form white puffs in the cold air. God, I wish Simon has his warmest jacket on.

“The first time it happened in high school, when he disappeared I found him on the roof of his dorm. I’m not sure why, but I know he likes heights.” She tells me, and seeing my horrified expression, she adds more quietly, “I don’t always find him, but when I don’t, he comes back to the apartment when he’s ready; usually it’s around night, but what matters is that he comes back.”

I try again to call him, but the phone is still off.

“Why does he run?” I ask.

“Because he thinks we’re better off without him.”

“But we aren’t!”

“I do know it, but he doesn’t.” She inhales sharply, “I hoped that now that you were around he wouldn’t run away… maybe if you told him that you care about him, he wouldn’t.” She glances at me with disapproval.

“He knows I care about him.” I roll my eyes, but my heart shifts. Is it my fault?

“Yeah but not enough to be his boyfriend, apparently.”

“If you really want to know,” I say sourly, “I wanted to ask him today. I even cooked roast.”

She side-eye glances again at me, this time in a different way, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Where are we going?”

“There is a place where we used to watch the sunset, I already looked there this morning and he wasn’t there, but maybe now he is. Let’s hope he is, it’s fucking freezing today and he’s away since early morning.” She says, then she hands me a piece of paper, “Can you go check here, please? These are the only two buildings I can think of.”

“Sure.” I tell her and I take it, “Call me if you find him, please.”

“You too, my number is written there.” She nods and then she’s walking away.

SIMON

I don’t know how many hours have passed since I got here, but I’m starting to feel my body again. I know it’s cold because there is hoarfrost on the bricks of the building, but I don’t feel it in my bones.

Why does it have to be all so fucking hard? I wish I could just ask for help, but to whom?

I don’t want the people I love to look at me with pity.

And that’s what they’d do if I tried to tell them how I feel.

I’m not even sure I’d be able to actually express with words how I feel.

That’s why it’s good I went away for a while, to let them breathe fresh air for a while. To stop being a toxic presence, even for a sec.

Because that’s what I am. Toxic. Everything I touch always dies. Everything I love is doomed.

Maybe that’s the reason God didn’t gave me a family at birth. He didn’t want me to destroy it.

BAZ

 _I found him_ , I frenetically write to Penny as soon as I see him.

He’s sitting on the roof of this fucking building, legs crossed and his gaze distant; there is a breath-taking skyline in front of him, but he might be watching a whole other universe from the look on his face.

I step closer to him quietly; I don’t want to scary him or make this worse. My body is all shaking because holy hell, Simon Snow is here and he’s alive. Maybe a little messed up at the moment, but still wonderful.

“Simon.” I whisper when I’m close enough for him to hear me. I have to say it a couple of times, before he blinks and turn to me. The only thing on his face is confusion.

“Baz.” He whispers back.

“Can I sit with you?” I ask him, because I’m not sure what to do.

He nods and I sit, leaving a few inches between us. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer. “What are you doing here?” It takes me a while to realize that I’m not the one who’ve spoken.

“I was looking for you.” I tell him. I make myself look at the skyline and stop staring at him, I don’t wanna make him feel like he’s under interrogation.

“Why?”

“Because I missed you and I wanted to spend the day with you, so I thought I could just come to ask you out in person.” I tell him; I don’t tell him how horrifying these last hours have been, he doesn’t need that now.

“Oh, great.” He nods distantly and I’m not even sure he’s listening me.

How do I reach you, Simon Snow? Where are you?

“Are you okay?” I murmur softly. It would be so easy to reach out my arm and hold me, but I don’t if he’d want that.

“I don’t know.” He says after a while.

SIMON

Baz noticed I was gone. He said he missed me.

“I don’t know.” I tell him, because the reality hurts too bad. I owe him at least a bit of the truth, so I add, “It’s a bad day.”

“I know,” he says, like it perfectly makes sense for him too, “The sky is so grey today.”

He says it like I’m not the one who’s broken; he says it like it’s the sky’s fault and not mine.

BAZ

Please, come back to me, Simon Snow.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” I tell him, because that’s what he always says to me when something’s wrong and it makes me feel better, so I try to do the same with him. “Or we can just stay here in silence; what matters is that we’re together.”

He exhales slowly, “I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone; I didn’t want to make you come all the way to here to see me.”

He says it like we’re at his place and I just stepped by to say hello.

Something breaks in me. “How could I not notice that you weren’t there?” I ask him rhetorically, because honestly, can’t he see that all my world spins around him.

He shrugs. I hate it, because it feels like he has given up.

“Why was today a bad day?"

“I don’t know. It’s different than the other times it happened.”

I give him a little time to collect his thoughts, then he adds, “I suppose that I’ve been happier than usual, so the sad has to feel sadder. I don’t know if it even makes sense.”

“Would you hold my hand, Simon?” I whisper, because I don’t know what to say, but he looks like he’s freezing to death. His lips are lightly blue. So I put my hand on the ground between us with my palm turned to the sky in a silent offer.

“You don’t have to do it.” He says after a while, not looking at me, still focused on far worlds.

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to stay here. You don’t owe me anything, you can go.”

“I know I can go,” I reply, “I just don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you.” I tell him. This shakes him from his thoughts and he finally looks at me. His eyes are sad and red, his face is paler than ever.

He slowly moves his hand and slides it on mine, without grabbing it. He just places it over mine, like a blanket. His skin is cold as ice.

“I wanna take care of you, if you want me to.” I murmur and suddenly there are tears rolling down his cheeks. I want to hug him, but I don’t move.

“I don’t want to break your heart.” He tells me, “but I ruin everything I touch. That’s why everybody always leaves me, that’s why I’m alone. I don’t know how to take care of good things.”

“That’s not true,” I shake my head, “Bunce is still here. And so are Matt, Sam and Elly. So am I.”

“Just because you haven’t seen the darkness in me yet.”

“There isn’t any darkness in you, Simon. You are the sun.”

He squeezes his eyes, maybe to clear them from tears. “I’m a little broken.” He says it with so calmly that it makes me shiver.

“Broken things have a nostalgic beauty, that’s probably why you are this beautiful.” I tell him. “Besides, I’m not less fucked up than you are.” I give him a tiny smile.

“And you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because we match.”

He doesn’t smile, but he wipes away the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand, like he doesn’t want to cry anymore.

“Do you want to go home?” I ask him, because I’m horrified by the colour of his lips. The same shadow of a frozen lake.

SIMON

I shake my head.

Truth is, I don’t wanna go home because I don’t wanna defile the peace of our home with my sadness. Home is my happy place, where I feel most safe.

And right now, I don’t feel like that. I can’t ruin home too.

“Please, no.” I whisper and he nods, like he understands what I haven’t said.

“Is it okay if I stay with you till you feel better?”

I want to scream. Tell him to run till he still has time, but I can’t make my voice work.

“Would you feel better if we were somewhere else? Somewhere where it’s just me and you? And you can recover and be okay. Would you like that?”

Oh, Baz. That would be a dream, but how could we make it work? We have nowhere else to go. I nod, nonetheless; to let him know I appreciate his impossible offer.

“Then we can leave now, Simon.” He tells me, his eyes as grey as the sky above us. “If you want, if you trust me. You don’t have to, you’re not obliged. I just want to help you, but I’m not sure how.”

But you can’t help me, Baz. “What are you talking about?” I ask, because I feel overwhelmed by everything.

“I have a house, a few hours from here. We could go there and stay a couple of days, till you feel better. We’ll come back for Christmas and you’ll be okay.”

I don’t know if I’ll be okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.

BAZ

“And I don’t want to bother you. You have work and stuff to do; you can’t just leave everything else for me.”

“Oh, yes. I can and I will. Fuck everything else! The most important thing is you.” I tell him and I brush my fingers against his, still placed on my hand. “What do you say, Simon?”

It’s not like I’m not the boss and I can’t take a few days off. It’s almost holidays time anyway, we’ll just skip two working days. It’s okay. And it’s not like Simon will have problems for not going to work, as he works for me. This can work. This will work.

I just want him to stop suffering.

I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, so I add, “Please, say yes. Let me take care of you. It's my only Christmas’ wish.”

“Okay.” He nods after a while, with his sad, blue eyes in mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the chapter. I wanted to say a couple of things about it, that I hope you'll take the time to read. 
> 
> First of all, I know this is isn't how Simon deals with his problems and his childhood, but seen that this is an AU, I wanted to make it the realest version based on my experience. So please be kind about this chapter, because it was really exhausting to write and I really put all I have in these words.  
> I know some of you will probably come at me saying that "in the other chapters Simon seemed happy, why did you make him sad all of a sudden". The point is that sadness comes and goes in waves, you can't control it more than you can control the ocean. Simon has bad days sometimes.  
> So, why did I write about Simon running away from his friends when he was sad? Because that's something that actually happened to me (I know I always say I'm Simon, but this time I'm Baz and Penny). I have a friend, who is an extraordinary soul, who used to do this when she got depressed. She just... disappeared. But she always came back. The thing is that she felt overwhelmed by what she had, she says. She used to have nothing as a child, so when she grew up and finally had friends and a family who loved her, she just felt overwhelmed.  
> Everything I wrote is true for her and for me as her friend (the seeking heights, the fact that Simon doesn't want to stay at home because he thinks he will defile the happiness of his home. Everything.)  
> Now that she's 27 and she's happily married, she doesn't do it anymore. She lets herself be happy and be loved. (And this makes me so grateful, because I love seeing her as happy as she makes us feel and because we were always scared as hell when she disappeared).  
> And I want the same thing for Simon. To let himself be happy and loved.
> 
> I wrote about this because if there even is ONE single soul reading this who is dealing with a lot of craps and bullshit and sadness, I want them to know that it's gonna be okay. It's gonna be more than okay. Please, seek help, talk to someone. If you have no one you can talk to, you can always always always find me here to listen to you. And don't cut out the people you love just because you don't want them to look at you differently. I know it's hard, I've been there many times; but you have to make an effort and open to them.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, you are all so special and valid. x
> 
> With this being said, I hope you'll have a great day. (Sorry for all the sadness in this chapter, there will be a lot of happiness later on)  
> <3


	26. taking time off and holding hands

BAZ

Penny’s waiting for us at their place when we arrive. It’s late noon, almost dinner time.

I think Simon is feeling a little better, because he lets himself be hugged by Penny (even if he looks a bit uncomfortable with being touched).

I admire Penny’s for not asking him anything about his escape, but maybe it’s because they’ve already been there a few times. She just stands there, being a silent presence for him; while I’m here and I have to bite my tongue to stop me from showering him with questions and words of reassurance.

I feel like they’re talking without words, though.

I tell her about our plan when Simon is at the loo and she nods, “Maybe it’s better like this, yeah. But I’m not happy that I won’t be able to keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll keep you updated; I promise.”

“Please don’t screw this, don’t make him feel worst than this.” She begs me with her tired eyes and her thick glasses. 

“I won’t, I'll do all I can, really.” At least I hope I can be enough to help him.

Penny helps Simon with his luggage and I take the chance to call Mr. Barry (the man who takes care of the house when we aren’t there) and tell him that I’m coming over, to buy the food and the stuff we might need. I’m happy to hear that they decorated the house for Christmas (as we had to spend the holidays there till Fiona changed our plans)(I hope this will cheer Simon up a bit).

I also call Mordelia and I explain the situation (not in the details, really, but she doesn’t ask anything). She says she’ll be fine home alone without me for a few days. I’m sorry to leave her, but at the moment all I care about is Simon’s mental health.

When Simon is ready, I take his clothes bag with one hand and I offer him the other, but he doesn’t take it. He looks quite like a ghost, with his pale face and his deep eye bags. Penny let us a go with a few recommendations and Simon nods, but I’m not sure he’s really listening.

We stop at my place too, to grab my things and then we’re ready to go. The smell of roast is still in the air and it makes me shiver thinking about how the day could’ve gone. Simon doesn’t seem to notice it.

And then we leave the skyscrapers behind us.

Simon is looking out of the car window with his forehead pressed against the cold glass. It’s like he’s looking without really seeing anything.

I gave him a big bag of his favourite chips, but he hasn’t eaten them. Not even one. Simon is refusing food.

I turn up the heat, just because he still looks cold. And Simon is never cold.

He falls asleep after a couple of miles and I let out a shaky breath. He’ll be okay, I repeat to myself. He’ll be fine, he’ll be happy.

Please, let him be happy. I beg, even if not sure to whom I’m talking to.

He wakes up when the gravel of the driveway creaks under the wheel of the car. “Simon, we’re arrived.” I whisper and he squeezes his eyes a couple of time, before nodding. I have use every single cell of willpower I have to stop me from calling him "love". I don't want him to think that I'm doing it just because he's sad. I take our bags from the trunk of the car and I approach him; he’s standing with his hands sunk in the pockets of his jacket and his nose in the air, staring at the house. My father’s Hamptons’ house is… well, big.

“Is this okay?” I ask him. How I want to hold him, but I keep a few inches between us. 

“This is a palace.” He points out before nodding. I open the door and I let him in before me. I haven’t been here in a couple of years, but it is just as beautiful as I remembered it (not as stunning as our home in England, but still)( it’s more beautiful now that Simon is in it, anyway).

He's looking at the big Christmas tree in the entrance like it’s some sort of hallucination. I must say, Mr. and Mrs. Barry really did a number with the Christmas decorations and I've never been happier to see a tree in my life. I'm not into Christmas at all, but I'm mentally begging to do its magic and make Snow happy. 

There is a paper with a round handwriting on the table from Mrs. Barry, it says that dinner is ready in the oven (thank God)(or thank Mrs. Barry I guess). I’m starving and I want Simon to eat as soon as possible.

“Wanna eat something?” I ask and I point at the kitchen with my head, “There is food waiting for us.”

He shrugs; he looks a little lost and I hate that he isn’t talking. Maybe taking him here wasn't a good idea, after all.

I take his jacket and I lead him to the kitchen table, where he let himself fall on a chair. I bring the plates from the oven, with something in it that looks suspiciously like roast (life’s irony, I guess) and I place one of them in front of him. I sit at his side instead that from the other side of the table, because I don’t want him to feel like I’m staring at him or something (and I can be physically closer to him like this).

At my extreme surprise, he starts eating and I feel relief rolling off of me in waves. Simon will be okay.

We eat in silence and when we’re done, we go straight upstairs. Simon’s eyes look too heavy to be kept open (not that I wouldn’t use some sleep).

I’m unsure what to do. Do we sleep together? Does he want to sleep alone? Are we staying in different bedrooms? It’s obvious which one would be mine, but it has to be his choice.

We get in my room and I stare at the bed blankly, then at Simon, who’s standing like he’s about to sleep on his feet. “If you want, I can sleep in my sister’s room.” I say and he stares back at me in confusion.

“I already bothered you enough, I’m not stealing your room too. If you want to sleep in different beds, I’m the one taking the other one.” He replies with hoarse voice.

“I don’t want to sleep without you,” I tell him honestly, “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. You aren’t bothering me at all, anyways. I’m happy to be here with you.” I’m so so happy to know you’re here and not wandering somewhere alone and sad. So happy.

“We could just lay there for a while, forget about the world.” I tell him, “And you can tell me to go, if you need me to, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods. I change in the bathroom and when I come back, he’s laying completely still on one side of bed. He’s buried in the blankets to his chin. My heart shutters a little and I force my hands to stop shivering.

I lift the blankets and I lay by side, leaving many inches between us. He’s looking at the ceiling, but when he feel the mattress sink under my weight, he turns to me. He’s still pale, but at least his lips are red and not blue.

“Do you feel like talking?” I ask him, because I’m not sure what to do.

SIMON

I don’t really, but this is Baz. And somehow talking to Baz is always easy.

I can’t conceive all the things he did for me today (and all the other days, for the matter). “I don’t know.” I tell him and he nods.

My body is working properly again. It feels things again. For example, I can feel Baz’s breath and the wind outside.

That’s when my head does that thing; that thing where it realizes something that has been under my nose for a while, but I didn’t manage to catch sooner.

Baz hasn’t touched me all day. Not even a slight brush of his fingers against mine. Not even by _accident_.

And now my body _needs_ to be touched by him. Like it’s the one thing that will make everything okay.

“Baz.”

“Yes?” His brow furrows a little.

“Would you hold my hand, please?” I whisper and I reach out my hand on the mattress under the blankets.

“Yes.” he breathes out softly. He slides his hand on mine and he leaves it there; his eyes look relieved, like he’s been waiting for a while to do that.

“Thank you.” I tell him. Not just for this, Baz. Not just for this, not at all.

“We take care of each other, Simon. From this day on, okay? I promised I wouldn’t cut you out anymore, I hope you will do the same for me.” He murmurs, he sounds like he’s afraid I will run out of the room. (I could)(I just don’t want to).

“I can try.” I reply, because it’s all I can give him right now. This is almost all I wanted him to say and now I'm ruining it. Why do I have to be like this? 

“That’s all I ask.” He says. I feel like I might smile. Maybe tomorrow I will. 

I intertwine my finger with his.

BAZ

His eyes close a few minutes later and I just stay here, looking at him sleeping. His brow is slightly furrowed, like he’s having a bad dream. I hope he isn’t.

But the more time passes, the more his face relaxes, and I feel like, yes, Simon Snow will be okay.

We’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of healing to be done; they're trying to make it together. 
> 
> I didn't want to leave you hanging after yesterday's chapter, so here's this one and I'm also already editing the next one, that will probably be up tomorrow if all goes well. 
> 
> I hope you're all fine!  
> Take care x


	27. snow angel and chocholate croissant

SIMON

When I wake up, I’m alone in the big foreign bed; it takes me some minutes to remember where I am or why I’m here. Alone.

But I’m not alone, am I? Because I can feel Baz’s smell all around me: cedar and bergamot. On the sheets, in the air, in my hair.

My sadness has evaporated from my body like a cloud, leaving my bones a little weak. I’ve been here many times. Now I just have to fill the big empty hole in me and then I’ll be alright. Usually, I do it with food. I could use some breakfast right now, I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.

But the problem of why I am alone is still here; where’s Baz? I have to find him, I need to apologize and thank him and tell him that I’m ready to go back home, so he can go back to his life. I’ve already stolen him enough time.

The thought of what Baz did for me yesterday makes my heart races. He does care for me. He cares!

Even if he’d probably be better off without me, anyway. I don’t think I am brave enough to let him go, though.

What if he’ll be the one to go away? After all, now he knows how broken and damaged I am and he knows he deserves better than this. Better than me.

I bury my nose in Baz’s pillow, taking in on his scent. I want to sculpt it in my brain, I want to be able to remember it if this is one of the last chances I have to smell it, if Baz decides to leave me. If he hasn’t left already.

(I know this is probably just an irrational fear, as this is his house and he can’t just leave me here, but still).

I don’t want to think about it now, I want to enjoy all I have with Baz until I can; I hug his pillow like a life buoy. I simply put it on the list of things I don’t think about, because it’s better this way. Easier.

I’ve been probably too caught up in my head to realize that mattress shifts next to me.

Baz’s fingers gently caress my temple and move a lock of hair from my forehead. His touch is as light as a feather.

_Please stop touching me like I’m about to shatter._

I open my eyes and I turn to look at him, he has a tiny smile on his lips, but when he realizes I’m awake, he immediately retreats his hand. “Oh, good morning, Snow.”

“Morning.” I reply and I give him a half smile, I want him to know that I’m okay, today. I won’t run, today.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, even if I can tell that it’s not exactly what he wants to ask me.

“Good,” I say, and then just because I want to push my luck, I stretch out my hand and I grab his on the sheets. He’s looking at me weirdly, like he doesn’t know that to do. I hate the fact that I put him in this situation, like he has to walk on his tiptoes when he’s around me.

“Can you come back here?” I ask, because I’m weak and desperate for him. I need to know where we are at.

He shakes his head and I feel hopeless, “I’m not even wearing my pyjamas, Snow.” He says, distantly playing with my hand. “Besides, I need you to eat breakfast and come with me."

Come back home, as we shouldn’t have left in the first place. This is what he doesn’t say, but I still get it.

“Okay.” I nod and I sit up.

“Where are you going?” he asks and stops me, placing his hand on my knee. It’s just a light touch, brief, distant.

“To get ready?” I mumble in confusion.

“Breakfast first.” He rolls his eyes and he turns to the nightstand, a few seconds later he places a big tray on my legs. There are three croissants on it and two mugs: a coffee and a tea.

“You did this… for _me_?” I ask, brow furrowed.

He rolls his eyes again, but there is a grin on his lips this time. “For _us_ ; the chocolate croissant is mine, you menace.”

We eat breakfast in silence, but I can’t quite stop looking at him, so he just keeps looking back at me. When we’re done, he moves away the trail and gets up from the bed.

“Get dressed,” he tells me, “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

The spell breaks and I nod; when he reaches the door, he adds, “Wear something warm and comfy.” He doesn’t explain why, but I do as he says and when I’m ready, I find him in front of the back door, waiting for me. He’s buried in a giant jacket, like the one you use to ski. I think I’ve never seen him less… elegant. He’s never been cuter, with his big hat trodden on his forehead.

“You ready?” he asks smirking.

“For what?” I snap back. If I was confused before, now I absolutely have no idea what’s going on. His words tell me that he wants to go back home, but his expression tells me that he’s happy here.

“Just… trust me.” He says and he offers me his hand. I immediately takes it; I don’t want him to think even for a second that I don’t trust him.

When he opens the door, everything is white.

The trees, the grass, the roofs, the fence: everything is covered in snow. It probably snowed all night and it’s still going on.

“Wicked.” I whisper, I can’t contain a smile. It snowed! It’s almost Christmas. For a second, it’s all that matters.

I run in the big garden of the house, leaving thick footprints in the snow. Too late I remember that I’m still holding Baz’s hand and that I’m dragging him with me.

“Snow, stop it! The snow is fucking _cold_ , I’m waiting for you on the footsteps.” He complains with a disgusted voice and I turn to look at him.

BAZ

He’s smiling.

He’s properly smiling, teeth and wrinkled eyes. I feel my heart sighs for relief.

I was right, of course this nightmare loves snow.

I don’t. Ew, it’s cold and wet and _cold_. But I had to try and cheer him up, so when tonight I noticed that it was snowing (I didn’t sleep much), it felt like a miracle (Christmas miracle? Who knows). Like the world _wants_ Simon Snow to be happy.

When I reach the stairs and turn to him, a snowball hits me right on the face. “Oh, you didn’t!” I scream and I swipe the snow away, shooting him a glance.

“C’mon, Mr. Grinch, don’t! Come make a snow angel with me!” he says with a shrug, still smiling. I don’t know how, but even with all this cold my heart manages to melt at the sight of a happy Simon.

“Angel, huh? You could do a snow demon, at most! You menace!” I groan. “My face is freezing, it may as well fall off!”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He laughs and the he walks to me, “Here,” he says and he places his hands on my cheeks to warm me up, like he isn’t also matching a light inside me.

“How can your hands be this hot?” I murmur, because he’s suddenly very close and very much touching me.

He shrugs again, with a tiny smile. “Better?”

“Yes.” I say and then I can’t quite help myself; I grab some snow from the handrail next to me and I throw it at him. “Even better now.” I laugh, when he steps back in shock.

“Not fair, I was helping you.” He snorts, but I feel the amusement in his voice; he drags me in the middle of the garden, pulling me by my hand. He lets himself falls in the snow, without a care in the world, and starts making his snow angel, which is a bit messy, but still somehow perfect.

When he stops his movements, I lay next to him, because he’s looking at me like _that_ and I’m not strong enough to deny him anything.

“Are you aware that if I’m the Grinch, then you are Cindy Lou Who?” I tell him, bumping my boot against his.

“So you’ve actually seen the Grinch!” he exults, “I have to tell Penny.”

“I’ve read Dr. Seuss’ book.” I say, rolling my eyes. (In fact I do have seen the movie, I just can’t let him know for now).

“Bookish twat.” He replies, “But I’m still satisfied.”

I sit to look at him, I can’t ignore the elephant on my chest anymore and I have to know, “How are you feeling today?”

He’s silent for a while, then he sits in front of me, legs crossed. “Good, better.” He replies. His cheeks are bright red from the cold air and I have to shove my hands in my jacket’s pockets to stop myself from caressing his face. I don’t know if we are there yet, if he’s really okay enough. “We can go back home, now. I’m sorry I made you lose work and time.” He murmurs.

“Simon Snow, you’re an idiot if you think I give a shit about work at the moment.” I’m surprised by my own words, but I can feel the truth of them on my tongue.

“I thought work was the most important thing for you.” He points out, his brow furrows slightly.

“It’s not anymore.” I tell him and I stretch out a hand to grab his.

(If Baz from a year ago could see me now, he’d probably have a heart attack)(today-Baz is the happiest Baz ever existed, though).

He gives me a dumb smile and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. “Still I’m sorry to have stolen you from your life, it’s not like I gave you much choice… So we can go back.”

I sigh, “Listen, Snow. If you want to go back, we can. The car is ready whenever you need to go back.” I tell him and I trace the lines of his palm with my fingers, “But I don’t want you to go back because you I think I’m the one who wants to. I’m happy to be where I am, if it’s with you. Besides, I have already everything covered at work and Mordelia is probably having the time of her life throwing parties at my place. So, if you are good, we’re good.”

He takes a bunch of seconds to reply, but when he does, he smiles. “Okay, then.”

“Just so you know, I won’t forgive you if Mordelia sets my house on fire because I’m here and not there. Especially if she burns my books.” I say cocking an eyebrow at him, because I want him to laugh laugh laugh.

“If you didn’t burn anything yet, I think she’s good,” he snorts, “she’s way smarter than you.”

“I beg you pardon!” I puff in faux disbelief, placing a hand over my heart for the theatricality. “I’m the genius of the family.”

He squeezes my hand, “I’m sorry.” He whispers, not looking at me. He focuses on our hands between us.

And I know we’re not talking about Mordelia anymore. “You don’t have to be.” I tell him, “Hey, look at me. Look at me.”

When his eyes finally meet mine, I bring his hand to my mouth and I kiss it softly. “You don’t have to ever apologize for being sad, okay? You can let yourself be sad when you’re with me, because this-“ I say and I move my hand between us, “-this is a safe place. The only thing that matters is that sometimes you also let yourself be happy, because happy Simon is my favourite Simon and because you _deserve_ to be happy.”

“I’m all messed up, you don’t have to be my nanny or anything, you don’t owe me shit.” He says, his big, blue eyes are tearing up, but I know he won’t cry.

“I don’t fucking care if you’re messed up, because I am too.” I snap back and then I soften my voice, “We match, remember?”

He nods with his sad smile. “Still, I understand if now that you’ve seen the real Simon, you want to leave.”

How could I, Simon?

“Leave? I’ve never liked you more.” I snort, folding up a corner of my mouth in a tiny smile. _Like_ is not really the word my heart wants to use. "Real Simon is the most beautiful version of you."

“You’ve said it again.” He points out and I roll my eyes.

“Yes, because I like you, you nightmare.” I say, “I don’t want to leave... But things won’t be easy, you know. With my father and his company and everything… I wish I could, but I can’t just yet.”

I want to ask him, here and now. I want to ask him to be my boyfriend, to love me and be with me all the steps of the way.

But I’m not sure this is the right moment. I don’t want him to feel like I’m asking him just because I want to try and cheer him up. Of course I want him to be happy, but I can’t make him feel like I haven’t thought about it enough, like I’ll take it back once he isn’t sad anymore.

“I don’t care.” He shrugs again and finally – finally – he kisses me.

He kisses me and it’s cold and wet and I can’t even feel my hands anymore with all this snow, but it’s absolutely perfect.

SIMON

Maybe I don't need food to fill up the empty hole in me. 

Maybe I need love. 

BAZ

Simon Snow is kissing me like it's the _end_ of the world, so why do I feel like it's its _beginning_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a little spark of happiness. 
> 
> There will be a few chapters about the Hamptons, I hope you're fine with it (they'll finally have time to talk about feelings and stuff without life getting in their way)(maybe).
> 
> Have a beautiful Sunday!  
> Take care x


	28. naked splendor and late night pizza

BAZ

We’ve stayed in the snow for a very, very, very long time. Like, for way too long. I almost froze to death, but I haven’t had the guts to tell him, because he was so happy, that I couldn’t make him come inside (and I couldn’t go inside without him and lose this triumph of joy).

Simon decided that it was time to go inside (with the heat)(and the chimney) just because he was angry, so we’ve eaten a macaroni cheese before cradling up on the sofa.

Simon looks _light_ today. I’m afraid that if I look away from him for a second too long, he’ll fly way.

I’m not sure if he is really happy, or if he is just excited because of the snow. What I know, though, is that he’s extremely calm today (at least he’s not in a hurry to run away)(thankfully).

The fireplace is tickling lazily in front of us and I can finally feel my feet again. We’re under the same blanket, but we’re not quite touching, except for our knees, pressed on one another.

I can still feel his lips on mine. Simon Snow never kissed me like that before, like his life depended on it. Simon Snow doesn’t care if I’m messy and complicated and he doesn’t care if my life is even messier.

“What do you wanna do?” I ask him, because I’m a bit unsure of where his mind is. How I hope he’s all here with me and nowhere else.

“I’m just happy to stay here and cuddle.” He shrugs and I feel like I’m the one about to fly away now, fly over the moon.

“We’re not cuddling.” I point out, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Not yet,” he snorts; he grabs my arm and wrap it around his shoulders, pressing his back against my chest, “now we are.”

“I see.” I roll my eyes out of habit and I place my chin on his head, his curls tickle my cheeks.

Now I’m definitely not cold anymore, this man is a fucking furnace, I have no idea how he manages to always have this body temperature.

“Have you called Penny yet? She probably wants to hear from you.”

“Yes, I have, while you were washing the dishes,” He nods against my chest, “Besides, traitor, she told me you sent her a pic of me playing in the snow.”

Oh, c’mon, Bunce!

“I may have or not, I won’t say anything until my lawyer arrives.” I sniff and he pinches my knee laughing.

“No, it’s okay, it was sweet from you, I think.”

I leave a kiss on his hair, inhaling deeply on his scent. He somehow smells like winter and Christmas.

“You can ask me if you want.” He tells me after a while.

“Ask you what?” I know damn well what he’s thinking about, because that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking all day (and all night, if we want to say it all).

“Why I run.”

I saw it coming, but it still feels like a slap on my face.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” I reassure him, even if I’m internally screaming ‘tell me, please’, I need to know, or I’ll never learn how to take care of you.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. Probably he doesn’t realize that as pressed against me as he is, I can feel him tense.

“My question is not exactly that… Why did you run instead of calling me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your day with my problems.” He mumbles and I just want to hold him forever in my arms. What a stupid, stupid man, Snow.

“You ruined my day by not calling me.” I reply; I hope I don’t sound as asshole as I feel, but I can’t quite stop my voice in time.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.” He murmurs softly, so softly that I’m not sure if he really said it or he my mind is playing with my feelings.

“Well, I did; I had plans for the day and everything was in place but you.” I bite my tongue. Shut up, Basilton.

“What plans?” he asks, turning to look at me.

It’s annoying how beautiful Snow’s eyes are. Just the perfect shade of blue, as deep as the ocean itself.

“Nothing that couldn’t be postponed, don’t worry.” I brush my knuckle against his cheek. He looks at me with his brow furrowed for a moment, before nodding once and sinking even more against my body, under the blanket.

“So… why do you run when you get sad?” I ask him, after a while, because the need to know is too strong to resist. I rub tiny circles on his arm over the sweater.

“I don’t know, I’ve always done it, the first time happened when I was about eight years old in foster care. After that, I just kept doing it, so they kept moving me from one house to another. I just couldn’t stop, I don’t know. I thought that maybe if I changed house, I could find a family someday… It never happened, though.”

“But it happened,” I tell him, holding him tighter, “when you found Penny’s family.”

“Yeah, Penny’s family is the closest thing to a family I have.” He nods against my chest, his curls tickle my chin. I somehow feel that his eyes are a bit sad right now.

“You also have me, now. You can count on me too.”

“Thank you.” He says and slides his hand under my shirt, caressing my belly. His skin is warming up mine with just the slightest touch, because my body craves him all the time, but now is not the time, so I try to think about anything else.

“Baz.”

“Mmh?”

“Stop treating me like I’m about to break, please.” He murmurs and he grabs my hand, guiding it under his sweater. He keeps it there, pressed flatly against his belly.

“I don’t want you to freak out.” I tell him, even if my body is not really agreeing with my words. “I understand if you need time.” 

“I don’t want you to get tired of me.” He says it so frankly that I snort loudly.

“Snow, if all I wanted was sex, I wouldn’t have brought you here.” I snap back, “Stop keeping this up, I’ve already told you you’re not a fucking one-night stand.”

“Fine, I may be a many-nights stand or whatever, but still, I don’t wanna risk losing you.” He shrugs.

“Honestly, Snow, at this point you’ll have a very hard time getting rid of me.” I roll my eyes as loudly as I can; the next thins I know is that Simon Snow is sitting on my lap, kissing the hell out of me.

I feel his fingers move to my jeans and untuck my belt.

“Snow, wait, wait – are you doing this because you think you owe me something?” I say, grabbing his hands firmly (or at least, I try to be firm, but it’s not easy when my body is all shaking and _wanting_ ).

“I’m doing this because if I don’t have as much of your skin as I can under me in seconds I’m about to auto combust.” He replies, his voice hoarse and his eyes blue blue blue.

“Well, I’m impressed you know what auto combust means.” I smirk at him, even if he can’t see me because this menace is already kissing my neck, in that spot that he knows I love.

“You’re a twat.” He snorts, but I feel his smile pressed against my skin. He moves back a little to look at me, “Do you want me too?” he asks with his brow furrowed, like I could ever say ‘no’.

“I always want you.” I roll my eyes; I slide my hands under his sweater and I pull it off of him.

He literally licks my lips with a wicked look, slow and deep, making me moan.

“Then do your worst.” He winks and it’s so adorable that I can’t keep a smile, even if it was supposed to be a grin.

And then our mouths lock together and it’s messy and hot and beautiful. It’s so Simon Snow that I lose myself in all these feelings that just keep getting bigger and bigger.

-

SIMON

I wake up in the middle of the night a little out of breath, I was probably having a bad dream, but I can’t remember anything about it, not even the slightest shade.

Baz’s long arms are all wrapped around me and it feels good, reassuring.

I stay for a long while there, just staring right at him (he never lets me do it when he’s awake)(maybe it’s better like this or I’d never be able stop). I still can’t believe everything he did for me, everything he does for me. He’s not just the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, he’s also kind and generous and sweet. He’s all and he’s more.

I free myself from his grip when I cannot ignore my hunger anymore and I sneak to the door, trying not to wake him, because he looks so peaceful that disturbing him now would be a shame.

I am very naked, and I know it’s just us here and Baz’s sleeping, but I still wrap a blanket around me, because I’m not very comfortable with going around like this.

I drag myself to the kitchen and I – very shamelessly – take the leftover food from dinner, I sit on the floor against the oven and start to eat. Because it’s never too late – or maybe too early – to eat pizza naked at night.

My muscles are pretty sore and it makes me smile nonetheless, because flashes of what we did all day keep coming back to my mind. I’m knackered, but light and happy.

The lights turn on and I have to squeeze my eyes at the sudden change of brightness.

Baz in all his naked splendor arrives in the kitchen with a groan, “Jesus Christ, Snow! Fuck you.” He blurs out when he notices me, a little ball of blankets and bare feet on the floor.

“What?” I mumble, swallowing a bite of pizza, “I was hungry. Why are you awake?”

“Fuck you and your stupid fucking pizza.” He says, crossing his arms against his chest. He’s looking at me like he wants to punch me, but there is also something else that I can’t quite recognize.

“You can be mean to me, but not to pizza. Never to pizza.” I shrug, taking a bite. I’m not sure what I did wrong this time, he looked pretty satisfied when we went to sleep, so I really have no idea what changed.

“I hate you.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, do you? Can you come and hate me closer? Your being naked is distracting me from my food.” I smile at him, because he is rolling his eyes _again_ ; nonetheless, he walks to me and sits on the blanket beside me.

I offer him a slice of pizza and he bites it reluctantly.

I lean my head on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you left.” Oh. Oh, Baz. I’m sorry.

“I’m not leaving, I’m happy.” I reassure him and I feel horrible for scaring him; that’s literally the last thing I wanted to do.

“Are you?” he asks, his voice no more than a whisper.

“I am.” I say, leaving a kiss on his shoulder. “Are _you_?”

“I was better before you gave me a fucking heart attack, you menace. I was already planning on how to escape from Penny’s anger when she found out I lost you.” He snorts. “But yes, I am happy when I’m with you.”

“I’m sorry for that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t… _scared_.”

I laugh lightly, “If you say so.”

We eat all the remaining pizza in silence; every once in a while, he snorts in frustration and I leave a kiss on his skin to calm him (at some point, I’m almost sure that he’s doing it on purpose to make me kiss him)(I don’t mind, though).

When we cradle again in bed, he holds me tightly against his chest, our feet entangled.

Just when I’m about to drift off, he murmurs, “Please, don’t ever leave again when I’m sleeping, it was fucking scary.”

“I’ll have to wake you for my midnight’s snacks, then.” I mumble, smiling against his skin.

“Sleep now, you nightmare.” He whispers, his fingers running gently through my hair.

I don’t know if I’m already dreaming, but I hear him slowly humming some sort of lullaby.

My heart flutters at the same rhytm as his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to post every day for a while, because I'm back both at uni and at work, so I don't have much free time... but I'll do my best to upload as often as I can! 
> 
> I hope you are all doing fine!   
> Take care x


	29. silver ring and tasting happiness

SIMON

It’s been three days since it snowed and even if the snow is almost all gone by now, it’s been three amazing days.

It’s been three days of Soft Baz.

That Baz that I get to see so rarely that I wanted to take every second of it and sculpt it in my memory forever. That Baz that accidentally called me ‘love’ a few times because he was too knackered to keep up his walls. That Baz that kissed me senseless every time I pointed out what he just did (I just couldn’t help it, because it made my body flutters, like a lightning bolt).

Three days of us getting up from the warm bed just to eat or lay in the bubbly bathtub; three days of slow touches and languid kisses, three days of admiring Baz’s body all the time.

Being with Baz is like being alive, it’s natural and simple and beautiful.

I barely had time to overthink things, because every time my mind started to go in that direction, Baz was there to distract me.

I’m feeling peaceful. Happy.

(Even if it was weird when this morning Baz asked me to get dressed, as for the past days he wouldn’t let me even think of wearing clothes.)

“So… Penny’s parents arrive tomorrow afternoon, her brothers won’t be there, though.” I tell Baz, reading Penny’s text; I type a quick answer and I throw the phone on the sofa, where it lands with a muffled sound.

“Do you have to go pick them up? I can ask David, if you want me too.” He says, moving his pawn on the monopoly’s board (because of course the only board game Baz has is the one where he has to behave exactly as the CEO he is)(annoying, but sexy).

“No, they have this tradition… They always take a taxi, because Penny’s dad loves old fashioned movies and all those touristic stuffs.”

He snorts, “Are you going to pick them up, though? Taxi or not.”

“Absolutely,” I laugh, “We always embarrass them with those panels with the names, you know? Last year we wrote “Welcome back from rehab, mom and dad”. Penny’s mom reaction was hilarious.”

He rolls his eyes with a grin, placing the money I just gave him next to his, “You two are terrible. What did you wrote this year?”

“This year is ‘welcome home from prison, we knew it was self-defence!’. They gonna love it!” I can already picture their expressions: priceless.

I love that I get to do this with Penny, the fact that they let me be a part of their family.

Baz laughs and this is even more priceless.

“If you ever do something like that to me, I’m gonna fire you.” He snorts.

“Well, don’t ever leave without me, then.” I point out, still smiling.

He rolls his eyes, but leans closer to kiss me. “When do we go back?” he asks, moving back after a while.

“I have to be there for tomorrow morning, but it’s up to you decide when you want to leave… You’re the one driving, after all.”

“Logic says we have to leave this evening, but if we do, I’m not gonna be able to sleep with you tonight. I’m torn.” He sighs theatrically, rolling the dices.

“We can leave tonight and I can sleep at your place, or you at mine.” I tell him, moving closer to him (because I know that these few days of peace are over)(and because I’m about to lose this stupid game, so the match is over anyway).

“So you do have good ideas from time to time.” He nods faux-impressed, pulling me to him, closing the distance left.

“Asshole.” I laugh and I bite his neck teasingly.

“How long are Penny’s parents staying here?” he asks, trying to keep focusing on the game and not on me.

“Just a couple of days, they are supposed to be at Penny’s brother’s for New Year’s Eve in Seattle. I think they are leaving the 26th.”

His breath gets shakier when I trail kisses down his neck. “Snow, focus. You owe me 200 dollars.” He says, but his head tilts back to give me more access.

“What if I pay you in other ways?” I propose, sitting on his lap, pulling a little at his sweater.

“We do not have time, I have plans for today before we leave.” He snaps back. His arms wrap around me nonetheless. I love the fact that he just can’t resist, that _I do this to him_.

“If those plans don’t include having you naked, I’m busy other ways.” I say, marking his neck; there is a spot, right on the corner between shoulder and neck that makes him go crazy (and I love tearing him apart, because he’s always so in control).

I feel like his kryptonite sometimes. Other times, I just think that sex is his kryptonite. I still feel lucky that I get to do this.

He moans, but cups my cheeks and makes me look at him. His lips are slightly parted and I can _feel_ that he doesn’t have much self-control left. “We have a reservation, Snow.”

I groan, brushing my lips against his, “How much time do we have?”

“We have to leave in forty minutes.” He says, his eyes completely focused on mine. We’re standing so close that I can’t see anything but his grey irises.

“I can deal with that.” I smirk and I clench our mouths together, untucking his belt.

-

BAZ

Simon kept his promises, in the end; he both repaid me for his lack of money at monopoly and made it in thirty minutes. I’m absolutely shameless about that. This man is a fucking menace and I’m absolutely crazy about it (because I’m disturbed)(ask anyone). We both had to change out clothes, though, because they were quite wrinkled.

I also had to wear a turtleneck because… Simon Snow.

“I told you you’d have to wear something warmer.” I snort, when he shivers because the wind hits us brutally when we get off the car.

“I’m not cold,” He mumbles, “I’m never cold.”

“If you say so.” I shrug.

We walk side by side in the almost empty street, Simon keeps shivering a little and it annoys me, because fucking hell, Snow, I told you to wear a damn scarf.

“Baz?” he asks, after a while.

“Mmh?”

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks, with his big blue puppy eyes.

“Because you’re cold?” I snort, I glance around to see if there’s anyone, but the street is empty because of the bad weather, so I hold out my hand and he grabs it happily. I can let myself have this.

“Because you’re acting weird.” He replies, he rubs his thumb on the back of my hand.

I may be. I may be freaking out because I decided that today is the day and I’m fucking stressed that the universe will try to ruin my plans again.

“I’m not.” I shake my head and I offer him a tiny smile, to let him know it’s all good (I’m not sure if it is in fact, but still).

“Where are we?” He asks when I stop walking, looking at the little restaurant in front of us.

“I always came here with Delia and Daphne when Dad was working. It’s little and off the main streets, I like it. Everything here always changes, but this place is always just the same.”

“Who’s Daphne?” He asks and he leaves my hand to open the door and let me in.

“My step-mom, Delia’s mom.” I explain. They let us sit on a table right in front of the big window.

“How’s she?” he asks, grabbing the menu.

“Daphne is… cool, I guess. Badass, she keeps up with my father’s bullshit, so.” I shrug.

“Your dad is terrifying.” He points out, “Every time he comes to the office it stresses me out.”

“Not best dad of the year, no.” I say and he pokes my boot with his and looks at me with a tiny, reassuring smile.

We end up ordering way too much food for just two persons, but I guess it was predictable, as one of us is Simon Snow (he eats it all, nonetheless)(I must say I’m impressed). We talk about simple stuffs, like our college memories or his present for Penny (which is pretty cool, I have to say); it’s like none of us want to ruin the happiness that hovered above us these days, so we just scratch the surface of what we could talk about.

“Why didn’t we eat at home?” he asks, finishing his chocolate cake.

My belly turns upside down, but I try to keep it casual. “I wanted to do something different, as it’s our last day here.” I say, “Why, didn’t you like it?”

“Are you kidding? This is some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.” He scoffs a laugh, “Not quite at Rosa’s level, though.”

A spark of pride lights in me, “Yeah no one can keep up with Rosa.”

Simon isn’t happy when I tell him I’m the one paying the bill and I have to argue with him for ten minutes straight, but in the end I cut him off with “This is my surprise and I’m paying, if you want to pay, you’ll have to ask me out for a date”. He can’t argue with that, so he just groans in frustration but drops it.

“So, what do we do now?” he asks, when we get out of the restaurant (which, as predicted, was exactly the same as I remembered it, even the waitress was the same).

“I wanna show you a place, if you want to walk a bit.”

He nods, following me along the sidewalk. We pass a lot of shops and houses, before taking a little path that leads to the beach.

“So, I wanted to ask you some stuff about that flight you planned for February.”

“What about it?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow.

“What do we have to do?” He asks, almost shy. “You said it was for work, but I checked the planning and I couldn’t find anything for that week, not here nor in England.”

SIMON

“Oh,” he mumbles, “I just have to check some stuff at London’s office.”

Just when I open my mouth to reply, he adds something, but he says it so softly and fast that I don’t quite get it.

“What?”

He clears his throat, “It’s my birthday and Daphne made me promise I’d be home for a couple of days.”

“Wait, _what_?” I ask, shocked. So we’ll be staying with his family?

“What?” he repeats, like he doesn’t understand.

“So like, I’ll be with you only for the office stuff and then I’ll wait for you in London or…?”I ask, brow furrowed.

“Of course not, you idiot. I won’t abandon you in London, you’ll come with me.”

I feel the panic rises in my belly, because just one Grimm is terrifying, but a house full of them... “So… you asked me to meet your family without actually telling me we'll meet your family?!” I blur out, because I couldn’t shut up even if I tried to.

“Yes, no big deal.” He shrugs, looking at the sand cracking under his boots.

“As what? You personal assistant?”

“No.”

My heart flutters like it’s made of butterfly wings.

“As friends?” I try again.

He stays quite for a bit, then he shakes his head. “We’ll see.” He says, and then, without notice, he grabs my hand, intertwining his cold fingers with mine. He doesn’t even check if there’s someone who could see us, he just does it without thinking (even if Baz never does anything without thinking, so there’s probably a reason). It takes me off guard, making me forget what I was about to say, so I just look at him in confusion.

Baz today is acting terribly weird, I can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t know if he’s like this because we’re going back home today, or maybe because it’s almost Christmas and he’s thinking more about his mom… or if he’s still worried about me (I hope he isn’t)(I’m okay now).

He finally stops walking when we arrive at the pier, which has a bench right at the end of it. The view is absolutely breath-taking, I could stay here forever. I never had much chances to see the sea nor the ocean, so I treasure every moment I spend on the beach. We could say that the time I’ve seen the ocean for longer was during the flight London-New York, but at the time I was too distracted by everything else – the clouds, the lights, the sun! If only I could fly.

We sit on the bench, pressed together against the cold wind (there isn’t anyone around anyway, so I hope Baz won’t mind).

“Baz, can I ask you something?” I ask and he nods, so I continue, “If you were just, you know, an ordinary guy and you didn’t have to car about the press and all those stuff… Would you hold my hand in public? I mean, not just mine… a guy’s. Would you be openly gay?” I mumble, because I don’t want to press him or anything, it’s just curiosity.

“I would,” he replies, almost immediately, “I don’t care what people think, so yeah. But you know it’s more complicated than that for me, in this life.”

“It doesn’t have to be, though. I think you could manage to solve your problems and be yourself.”

“Snow…”

“No, listen, I’m not saying it because I want you to take me to fancy restaurants or stuff, I’m not saying it for me at all. I’m absolutely happy to just stay with you at home. But, listen, I’m so tired of seeing you with all these walls up. I want you to be free to be yourself. All the time, not just when you’re with me or your sister.” I say and I place my chin on his shoulder to look at him. “I want everyone to see how wonderful you are.”

“Utopian.” He murmurs, “I’m already the youngest member of the company and I have to fight all the time to be heard; imagine if they also hated me for being gay. I’d lose the company… I’d lose my mom’s legacy.”

“They can’t just ignore you; you are probably the smartest in that company, they’ll have to listen to you anyway.” I tell him, because this is the truth I see in him and in that office. “You’d still have Fiona’s backing.”

“Life is not always as beautiful as you make it sounds.” He whispers.

I sigh, “I know life is not always beautiful, but I also know that it can change. Look at me, I worked hard to stop being the orphan kid who owned nothing and now I’m working for one of the greatest companies in the world. I had nothing and now I have all of you. You’ll find a way to make it work, too.” I tell him and I kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you will, Baz. Maybe you’re not ready yet, but you eventually will be one day.”

“Maybe one day.” He murmurs, looking at the horizon with melancholy.

He’s so beautiful that it makes my eyes shine with adoration. With this grey sky his eyes just look even deeper and sadder than usual, like the universe is melting and is being absorbed directly by Baz’s soul.

“I was wondering if you’ll stay with me, while I figure this out.” He says after a while, still not looking at me.

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.” I tell him, because in my heart I know this is the absolute truth.

“Forever it is, then.” He blurs out in a smile, his eyes wrinkles in the corners. It’s literally like he had to smile because his body couldn’t contain the joy. I smile too, because my body is about to swallow the sun with all the happiness nested in my bones right now.

BAZ

“Feelings are not really my thing, Snow.” I say and I take my hand out of my pocket, “But at this point I can’t deny anymore that I do, in fact, have feelings for you.” I turn on the bench to look at him and his eyes widen (not just a bit).

“I’m not even sure why as you’re the most annoying, tremendous, most beautiful, funnier, smarter idiot I’ve ever met.” I sigh dramatically and he rolls his eyes, but his lips are curled up in a bright smile.

“And it won’t be easy, it’ll rather be quite complicated, especially when we’re not at home, but…” I murmur, “Here.” I reach out my hand, showing him what’s on my palm. Every expression falls from his face when his eyes see the silver ring.

“Baz, what the fuck?” he murmurs.

“I’m not asking you to marry me.” I roll my eyes, because his panic is making me panic.

His eyes move from the ring to my eyes a few times, in absolute confusion. “I’m not sure what’s happening, if I have to be honest.”

“I want to be in a relationship with you, Simon Snow.” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Why is he looking at me like that?

Why is he looking at me like he’s about to throw himself off the pier?

“You mean, like… Be my boyfriend?” He asks, brow furrowed. “You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, Snow.” I roll my eyes. This was a bad idea.

“And you’d be mine, right?” he asks again, tentatively.

“I reckon relationships work like that, yes.” I nod.

“But I thought…” he looks again at the ring, so I cut him off.

“I know what I said before, that work came first and all that shit, but I realize now that it’s not true anymore. You’re the most important thing for me now and I want to have it all. I want to have all of you. Just you and me, every day.”

He looks at me with bright eyes, “I am a terrible boyfriend.” He whispers.

“I don’t care, I probably am terrible myself. You know I never had a relationship before, so I don’t know how it really works. As you can see from me buying you a ring, because I wasn't sure on how to ask you. Mordelia said the ring would probably freak you out or something, but I thought it’d looked good on you, so I just bought it.”

“You asked you sister advices on this?” he asks smiling.

“I may have,” I snort, “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, though.” I say and I pull back my hand, because he still hasn’t answered and I start to feel like he won’t say yes after all. This was a terrible, horrible idea.

“No no no,” He says and he grabs my hand, “I love it.”

I feel relief rolling off my body in waves.

“So, will you give me an answer or what?” I blur our, tilting my head a little, “Because I am about to freak out.”

“Like I could ever say no.” He says and then he pulls me from the collar of my coat to kiss me on the lips.

SIMON

When I move back, he leans his forehead on mine. “You still haven’t given me a proper answer.” He says, a little out of breath.

“Yes, Mr. Pitch,” I laugh and he rolls his eyes, “I want to be your terrible boyfriend and have it all with you.”

He sighs, smiling.

I feel as light as a feather, as a cloud, as the air itself.

My head knows that what we had was practically already a relationship without a label and it probably won’t change much, but my heart is screaming from the top of its lungs.

Baz is my boyfriend.

I slip the ring on my finger and I look at it, “It’s exactly as posh as you, it’s perfect.”

“Asshole.” He snorts, but he’s kissing me again. It’s more smile-against-smile than lips-against-lips, but it’s the best kiss ever, because I can _taste_ his happiness. I hope he can taste mine too.

-

It’s not that I’m not happy of being back home, I missed Penny and my cameras after all, it’s just…

I’d rather spend all the time I have left on this Earth in the Hamptons with Baz, with him murmuring softly in my ears and kissing me anytime I stepped too closer and his “don’t even think about wearing clothes, Snow”.

But tomorrow is Christmas and today Penny’s parents arrive, so it’s good. I’m happy. Truly, utterly happy. 

I hated parting from Baz this morning, but I had to (also, I'm happy he gets to stay with his sister alone for a while). We'll see each other tomorrow for Christmas' lunch, I can't wait! Will I introduce him as my boyfriend? I don't know. I don't want to overthink it just now.

When I open the door of our apartment, I shout (both to let Penny know that now I’m fine as the last time she saw me I really wasn’t and because I really missed annoying her).

“Your favourite person in the whole world is back home!” I shout; I drop my bag in the entryway and I go to the living room, where I’m sure I’ll find her.

She’s sitting on the couch, reading some papers (work stuff, probably). She smiles brightly when she sees me, “It was about time! We have to do tons of stuffs before my parents arrive and we only have a few hours –“ Her eyes widen, looking at my hand placed on the back of the chair, the ring smiling under the light, “Did you got _engaged_?!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it happened! They are officially a couple, I hope the "proposal" was worth the waiting for y'all!   
> I quite like how it turned out; they are the cutest.
> 
> Also, yeah, I've never been to Hamptons as I live in the other side of the ocean, but I tried to make it realistic (Google knows just how much). 
> 
> Let me know if you liked this chapter, because it's one of my favourites!
> 
> Take care x


	30. Christmas day and heartfelt gifts

SIMON

“So… it’s forty minutes in the oven by now and then everything is ready…” Mitali, Penny’s mom, tells me. “Are you finished with those sauces?”

“Yes, I’ve put them in the fridge for now.” I tell her, grabbing the plates from the cupboard. “I’m gonna set up the table!”

The living room is already all set up, all the Christmas lights are on and it looks like a house out of a Christmas movie. We’ve decided to open the presents after lunch, as Baz and Mordelia weren’t there this morning and we wanted to open the gifts with them; that’s why there is still a giant pile of colourful bags and boxes under our tree (I’m dying to open them)(but waiting for Baz was my idea, so I can’t complain).

Penny arrives in the living room with a yawn, still in her pyjama. “Morning.” She mumbles, collapsing on the couch.

“It’s already the 26th of December, you didn’t wake in time, ugh!” I sigh and she throws me a pillow.

“Fuck you, I was tired,” she groans, “Merry Christmas, anyways.”

“Merry Christmas, Pen.” I tell her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

I get why she wanted to sleep; yesterday was crazy. Her parents’ plane was late and we had to wait for them at the airport for six hours, so we arrived home at like 4 in the morning, after dropping them at their hotel. I have to say, though, that the taxi ride was even more stunning that late, with all the city sleeping and the Christmas lights on.

“Your parents and I aren’t that tired.” I shrug. In fact, I am knackered, but I still woke up around 7 am, because – it’s Christmas morning! You can’t sleep through Christmas morning, it’s against the holy law of Christmas (I know Baz says it doesn’t exist something like that)(but trust me, it does).

“Well, they are jet lagged so for them it’s like noon now and you’re just high on Christmas sweets and lights. So you all don’t count.” She rolls her eyes. “Where is dad?”

“He went out to buy wine or something.” I tell her, “Or probably he just wanted to see New York on Christmas day.”

“The second option is way more plausible.” She snorts. “Mom, merry Christmas!” she sleepily smiles at her when she gets in the room.

“Yeah you slept too much that now we are not even on the same Christmas day, you’re stuck at last year’s.” She teases her. “Merry Christmas, honey.” She sits next to her and kisses her forehead.

“You two are horrible and it’s way too early for this.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Mitali snaps me a knowing look and we both laugh. God, how I missed Penny’s family. “Luckily Simon was there to help me with the food.”

“Did you made nan’s pie?” Penny asks, with a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

“Yes, absolutely. I crossed the ocean to bake it.” She says caressing her cheek.

“You’re the absolute best.” Penny and I say in unison.

“So, who’s gonna be with us? I see two extra places at the table.” She points out, glancing at us with curiosity. “Did you two finally find your significant others? Because it was about time.”

I feel my cheeks turn red and I glance at Penny, that just scrolls her shoulders. “You’ll see when they arrive, mom.”

I’m not really sure on how I’ll introduce Baz today. I mean, he’s my boyfriend (he’s my boyfriend!), but I don’t know if I can call him like that in front of them. Penny knows, I’ve told her as soon as I arrived home. I also know that for Penny’s parents wouldn’t be a problem that I’m dating a guy (at least I hope), but I just don’t know how this will go once they arrive.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Mr. Bunce shouts from the entrance.

“Merry Christmas, Dad!” Penny gets up to hug him. He has many packages, but somehow manages to squeeze Penny too.

“I did some shopping.” He says, placing the new gifts under the tree with the others. “I also bought champagne…”

We sit on the couch and the armchairs and Martin held each of us a glass of champagne. “We have news.” He giggles.

Martin is the human version of a teddy bear. He’s like a ray of sunshine, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a smile on.

In the contrary, Mitali is a little colder in appearance, but she has the biggest heart. The first times I met her, I was absolutely scared by her, but I grew to understand that’s just the way she is.

I absolutely adore them both.

Penny is a little bit of each of them, even if she’s more like her mom.

“What news?” Penny asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Do you wanna tell them yourself?” Martins asks to Mitali.

“No, go on. You haven’t spoken of anything else on the plane.” She rolls her eyes, but she looks at him in a tender way and he smiles brightly, before turning to us.

“Mitali is now the Headmistress of the school!” He says, fondly. There is pride rolling off his face, like he was the one to receive a promotion.

“Wow, mom, that’s great!” Penny claps her hands.

“Congrats, Mitali!” I exclaim cheerfully. “Let’s have a toast!”

“Thanks, guys.” She says, smiling and we all raise our glasses.

“To the headmistress!” Martin says and we all repeat it, before drinking. I swear there is just the tiniest flush on Mitali’s cheeks and it tells me that she is, in fact, as proud of this as his husband.

They catch us up on what we’ve been missing since we last saw each other and we tell them about work and our friends. I lose myself in the conversation, but I can’t quite stop to –

“Stop checking the time!” Penny tells me, “You’re giving me anxiety.”

“It’s just…” I shrug, “They are late, Baz is never late.”

“But Mordelia is. Like, always. So, relax.” She says, patting my knee.

They, in fact, knock on the door around thirty minutes later (thirty minutes of me stressing, yes).

“I go…” Penny says, getting up, but I’m already on my feet.

“No no, I’ll go, don’t worry.” I tell her, almost running to the door. I know maybe I am overreacting, but if I don’t get to introduce Baz as my boyfriend today, I wanna be able to at least kiss him now, far from everyone’s eyes.

I open the door and I don’t even have time to smile at them that Mordelia is hugging me, “Happy Christmas, Simon!”

I hug her back, laughing. “Merry Christmas, Delia, thanks for coming!” I don’t know why I called her Delia, but she doesn’t seem to mind (I probably did because Baz always call her Delia, so it just… slipped out).

Baz is looking at me with a dumb smile, “Okay, go, my turn.” He tells her, tapping her shoulder. She lets me go rolling her eyes.

“Are Penny parents already here?” she asks, taking off her coat and hanging it on the wall. “We’re late because I didn’t know what to wear.”

“Yes, living room. Go, we’ll come right after you.” I smile at her and she _winks_ , “Also, you look stunning with that dress, good choice.” She leaves smiling and Baz rolls his eyes.

“Don’t hit on my sister.” He snorts, grinning.

“I wasn’t.”

We hear their greetings in the other room, before Baz laughs a little and I can form coherent thoughts beside ‘how can he be this gorgeous?’. “Are you letting me in?” he asks and I notice that I am still standing on the door.

“Absolutely.” I smile and I grab him by his coat, pulling him in the apartment. He closes the door after him with his foot and I push him back against it.

His eyes are all bright and shiny when he looks down at me, his mouth just a breath away from mine. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch.” I tease him, brushing the top of my nose against his.

“Merry Christmas, you menace.” He says, sliding one of his hands under my sweater (the other one is holding a suspiciously big bag)(I hope it’s a clothes bag and that he decided to spend the night here). “How do you manage to look this beautiful with all those eye bags?” He grins and my belly flutters.

“I slept like 3 hours, don’t judge me.” I laugh.

“What, you can’t sleep without your _boyfriend_?” he murmurs, kissing my nose, my cheek, my chin.

His words send all kind of emotions down my spine; I do know what being struck by a lightning bolt feels like now.

“In fact, no, I can’t.” I tell him, “I missed you.”

“We’ve last seen yesterday.” He scoffs a laugh. His hand moves from my back to my hand, where his fingers look for my ring; once he finds it, he smiles sheepishly, like he thought I wouldn’t be wearing it (I don’t think I’ll ever take it off).

“Don’t care, I missed you all the same.” I shrug, pressing my body against his.

“Cheesy.” He rolls his eyes, but I feel the smile in his voice; he intertwines his fingers with mine, “So are you kissing me or what?”

“Bossy.” I snap back, but I still close the distance between us, finally – finally – kissing him.

His lips are soft against mine, the scent of cedar and bergamot makes my head spins. It’s tender and familiar; it’s home.

It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received. Not just kissing him, but being able to have him here as my boyfriend.

“Let’s go, I don’t wanna Bunce or Delia to come looking for us.” He says when I move back. He takes off his coat and hang it next to his sister’s; he’s still holding that big bag in his hand.

He’s wearing a light blue shirt that makes his eyes shine and that damn black jeans, that just… ah. That ass.

“What’s that?” I ask him, curious, willing to think about something else that is not how much I want to kiss him again.

“None of your business, Cindy Lou Who.” He grins and walks to the living room. What a twat, I have to bite my lips not to smile.

They are all chatting animatedly when we arrive, Mordelia sitting on my armchair, telling Mitali about her university career, she already has a glass of champagne in her hands. They all look at us when we get in there.

Mitali gets up from the coach and comes to us.

Here we are, this is the moment I’ve been overthinking about for ages.

“Baz, this is Mitali, Penny’s mom.” I tell him and then I turn to Mitali; I can already feel my cheeks burning, my hands shaking a little. “And this is Baz. Baz is, ehm… Baz is my – ah, my…” Friend? Boss? Boyfriend? Favourite person?

“I’m Simon’s boyfriend.” Baz says, offering her his hand.

All the panic evaporates from my body. I look at him for a second, because I don’t wanna lose his expression the first time he introduces himself like this; he does the same face of when he’s talking in important meetings, though.

Mitali’s brow furrows, but she shakes his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She, instead, looks like she’s meeting the parents of a kid who is failing one of her classes.

Penny looks at me and she nods, reassuring me. _It’s okay_ , she says.

“You are my kiddo’s boyfriend?” Martin says, arriving from the kitchen, smiling widely. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m Baz Pitch.” He says, turning to him and offers him his hand.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” he replies and ignores Baz’s hand, hugging him instead. Baz is taken a bit off guard, but pats his back (he is really not used to hugs). “I’m Martin. Simon why didn’t you tell us the good news?”

I shrug, not really knowing what to say beside ‘thank you for being this supportive’. Penny gets up from the couch too and rub her hands, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes, it’s all ready.” Mitali nods.

“I… We brought this for you.” Baz says, handing her a bright blue package.

“You didn’t have to,” she says, taking it. “thank you. I’ll put it with the other ones.”

Baz smiles at her a little, then turns to me. He sighs quietly, so I grab his hand, squeezing it gently. “I got presents for you.” I tell him, trying to distract him. “They’re under the tree.”

“You are my present,” he says, squeezing back my hand.

“Cheesy.” I echo him, trying to hide everything happening in me right now.

He puts his bag under the tree and we sit with the other at the table. The food is absolutely brilliant, as always when Mitali cooks.

“So how did you two meet?” Martin asks, somewhere between the first and the second course.

“At work.” Baz says casually, pouring salsa in his plate.

“Are you colleagues?” he asks and Penny shakes her head.

“He’s a Pitch, dad. You know, we work at Pitch Ink.”

“No way!” he says, impressed. “Did you found the company?”

“My parents did, I just work there, I’m still learning the job.” He says, shrugging, even if we both know that he’s the best in that office, even if he’s young.

“That’s absolutely amazing!” he compliments, then he turns to Mordelia, “And what do you do?”

Mordelia tells them about her plans on becoming a traveller after finishing university (where she studies languages). “I just still don’t know how, maybe I’ll become a hostess or a reporter, I have no idea yet.”

At first, I thought Mitali didn’t like Baz, but after they started talking about work and university, they seemed to go along pretty well. I’m happy about that.

When we finish eating, we all sit in the living room, some on the couch and some on the floor next to the three, all sipping white wine. I hand out all the presents from under the tree to the respective owners and then we open them.

I decide to leave Baz’s present as the last, so I open the others first.

Penny and I burst out laughing, because we bought each other the same exact thing: a ticket for the Wizarding World in Orlando. Because, let’s be honest, who loves the School of Magic more than us?

“At least we get to go together,” she laughs, half hugging me from her armchair.

“Yeah, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw kicking asses at the park, we’re ready!” I exult.

“A Gryffindor?” Baz snorts, cocking an eyebrow. “But if you are the hufflepuffest Hufflepuff ever existed!”

“Shut up, you Slytherin.” I snap back, laughing. “Liking cuddles doesn’t automatically makes me an Hufflepuff.” My cheeks turn red when I realize what I said about cuddling, but they just laugh, so I move on.

I hold my breath when Baz takes my present for him from the coffee table, I put my chin on his knee (he’s sitting on the armchair and I’m on the floor), “I have other gifts for you but you’ll have to wait till we’re alone.” I murmur, so he’s the only one to hear me.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.” He whispers back with a wicked smile on his face, running his hand through my curls.

He rolls his eyes loudly when he opens it and sees the Christmas sweater. It is, in fact, almost identical to the one I was wearing when we first met at work, with a reindeer in the middle and pompoms all over the sleeves. I giggle, “Now we match!” I tell him, laughing. “Put it on.”

He rolls his eyes again, biting his lip, but he doesn’t say no and wears it over his shirt (he probably doesn’t want to argue about this in front of Penny’s parents)(or maybe he likes it, after all). “This is horrendous!”

“I know you love it, I do love it.” I laugh, looking at him, and I turn on the reindeer’s nose on (because of course you can light it up, I take Christmas sweater very seriously). How can he be this sexy with an embarrassing sweater on?

When all the gifts are open but mine from Baz, Mordelia proposes to play cards, so they all get up from the couch and go to the table. I glance at them, but they don’t seem to care about us (or they want to give us space), so I get up and offer my hand to Baz. We go to my bedroom and we sit on the bed, Baz’s present for me on my knees.

“No way.” I mumble, looking in the box. My hands start shaking and I almost drop it, but luckily Baz catches it and places it back on my lap.

“Baz, what the fuck?” I mumble.

There is a Fujifilm GFX 100 staring directly at me.

Like, a real one.

“You don’t like it?” He frowns.

“If I like it?” I snort. “This is literally the best camera ever and it costs like thousands of dollars, I can’t accept it.”

“You have to. It’s my present, you can’t give it back.” He says, cocking an eyebrow.

“But I can’t buy you presents like this.” I reply, handing him the box. There is something fluttering in my belly, a mist of happiness and sadness, gratitude and shame.

“I don’t want expensive presents; I just want you.” He rolls his eyes, “You don’t have to buy me anything at all.”

“But this literally costs –“

“I don’t give a shit about its price, Snow. All I care about is that you like it. I just wanted to give you a beautiful present because you’re my boyfriend and I want to make you happy, are you?”

“I am.” I nod. I don’t know if he’s referring to the being boyfriend or the being happy, but I’m both, so it’s not really that relevant.

“Then just give me a kiss and accept the present.” He says, running his hand through my curls. I place the box carefully on the nightstand and I lean on him.

“Thank you.” I say, and I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I’ll have to buy him more than what I got him, I don’t even know where to start.

“I’m genuinely out of words.” I murmur in his hair.

“If I knew that all I had to do to shut you up was buying you this, I’d done it months ago.” He says and I can feel the grin in his voice.

“You can shut me up by kissing me anytime.” I snap back and he kisses the mole on my neck. The tenderness of it makes me like a flower.

“Oh, I forgot!” I say, moving back, “I have presents for you, beside your new favourite sweater… But I didn’t got nothing compared to your gift for me, so it’s probably best if I buy you a new one.”

“Don’t.” He snorts, playing with the ring on my finger, “I want those ones.”

I’m torn, but he looks at me in a way that makes me give up. I open the drawer of the nightstand and I take out the two gifts.

I hand him the first one and he opens it carefully, detaching the scotch (I just tore mine). I may or may not have anxiety right now, but I do my best to look chill (I’m not sure I’m fooling him, though).

“These are…” he says, his eyes widening, “my favourite books.”

“I know, I asked Mordelia.” I tell him, “I’m aware you probably already own them, but I had this idea and I think you could like it… I basically read them and highlighted all the quotes that reminded me of you, of us.” He looks at me with a weird face, like he’s in disbelief (I’m an idiot, why can’t I give normal presents?) “I know it’s not much and it’s weird, I’ll buy you something els-“

He kisses me, biting gently at my bottom lip. “It’s perfect.” He says and he has _that_ light in his eyes, so I kiss him again, even if it’s a bit of mess because he’s smiling. I always love kissing his smile.

“You read them for me?”

“Yes.” I nod, our noses brushes together. “There was a quote I particularly liked, _‘You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have’_. And this is a tiny part of how I feel about you.”

He kisses me like I am a pipe dream.

“I also got something else.” I tell him out of breath, when our lips part. He opens the second gift and he smiles widely when he sees it.

It’s a picture of us framed, I took it the same day we first made love. We’re both shirtless, laying on bed and his hair is sprawled all over the pillow; I’m biting his cheek while he grins at the camera. “I remembered that when we were watching the pictures you said this one was your favourite, so I printed it. You don’t have to put it anywhere, though, if you don’t want to.”

He brushes his fingers on the glass, still smiling. “I should’ve brought you a better gift than the one I actually got you, you deserve so much more.” He murmurs. I’m not sure if he knows he said it out loud.

“So, you like it?” I ask, placing my forehead on the crook of his neck.

“Yes, Simon. Very much.”

When we get out of my room, we may have messy hair and red lips, but nobody points it out. My heart is light and fluttering, I’m sure anyone can notice this too, because it’s probably written on my face.

We play board games for the rest of the afternoon and I bet that if someone saw us now, they’ll think we are just a big happy family out of a commercial.

Martin yawns loudly around dinner time, so Mitali and him decides that it’s time to leave, because they are still jetlagged. When they are ready to go, they hug all of us, Mordelia and Baz included and it makes me utterly happy.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, guys.” Mitali says, wrapping her scarf over her coat.

“It was a wonderful day, I’m glad you two came.” Martin says, patting Baz’s shoulder. “I hope we’ll get to see each other again, maybe in England too.”

“That would be great.” Baz nods, smiling. “Maybe you could come over at my place tomorrow evening to try Rosa’s food.”

I look at him with surprise, but he just ignores me.

“We’d come gladly, but tomorrow we leave. We have to be at our son’s place the 27th and we have many hours of car ahead of us.” Replies Mitali, “but thank you very much.”

“So… we’ll meet tomorrow at your hotel and I’ll drop you at the car rental at 11, right?” Penny asks them and Martin nods.

When they leave, Penny comes back to the living room rubbing her hands, her expression is a little confused. “It’s been an unpredictably beautiful day.”

“Your parents are great, Penny.” Mordelia tells her and Penny nods, smiling knowingly.

“So… who’s hungry?” I ask, letting go of Baz’s hand to reach the kitchen, “There is tons of leftover food.”

We all sink in the couch, eating directly from the pans (at Baz’s disgust, because he’s a posh)(it just makes it funnier, honestly), watching the Grinch (always at Baz’s disgust)(even if I can see that he loves the movie).

We’re all too tired and happy to say goodbye, so we just fall asleep on the couch. I’m curled up on Baz, because I can’t help it, he’s like a magnet for my body (he doesn’t seem to mind, though); but, in general, we’re a mess of legs and pillows and blankets, because we’re all squeezed together to fit on the small couch.

It's perfect.

I couldn’t ask for a better Christmas day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: what Hogwarts house do you think they are in? I'm very curious.  
> I'd say: Baz Slytherin, Simon Gryffindor, Penny Ravenclaw. But I'd also put Simon in Hufflepuff, so I'm torn.
> 
> No one asked, but I'm a Gyrffindor since when I was 5, so I'm very proud to scream it from the top of my lungs! :)
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter didn't come out on Christmas day (I know it would've made more sense), but I didn't want to leave you hanging till that day, so I just published it now! 4051 words of pure fluff and Christmas joy, because I can't help myself. (Yes, The Grinch is my favourite xmas movie).  
> Please, note that I completely invented Penny's parents' characters (beside their names). I'm sorry for that!
> 
> Simon's quotes is by F.S. Fitzgerald. The idea about the highlighted books is what I actually gave my bestie last year from Christmas because we are two bookworms (he loved it)(so I figured Baz would've too). Yes, I am a terrible best friend, especially with presents.
> 
> I hope you're well and safe!  
> Take care x


	31. ice skating and jealousy

BAZ

“You look cute,” he laughs, taking it off of him and putting the horrendously furry hat on my head (also extremely warm, though, I already feel better)(maybe it’s because of Simon’s stupid smile), “You have to keep it on, I don’t wanna listen to you complaining about your ears falling off or stuff for the whole day.”

I roll my eyes, “It’ll squash my hair.” I snap back, but I can’t really take it off, when it makes Simon this happy. His hair is a mess, so I run my fingers through it and his curls immediately pop back up to their original splendour.

“Guess we’ll have to take a shower together when we get back home, then.” He murmurs against my lips, before kissing me full on the lips. Because that’s something we let ourselves do now, from time to time, even when we are outside. It’s mostly because wrapped up in winter clothes as we are, no one will recognize me anyway, so we just pretend that we can have this even outside our houses. We can pretend that loving me isn’t hard (not that I think Simon loves me, I’m not that lucky)(does he, though?)

I moan when he bites my bottom lip, pulling it gently with his teeth. “At my place then, my bathtub beats your tiny shower.”

“It’s not tiny, if you just use it to _actually_ take a shower.” He points out, still laughing. He slides his hand in mine and enlaces our fingers together, we’re both wearing gloves, but I still feel the warmth hating off his skin.

“That’s exactly why we won’t use it; I’m not planning on showering, not really.” I tell him in his ear, before leaving a kiss right under it (there is a little mole right there, it’s the perfect target for kisses).

His cheeks are bright red when I look back at him and I rub my nose against his.

“You are not very subtle, are you, Mr. Pitch?” he teases me, but I can clearly see in his eyes that his head is already home, waiting for me.

“I thought that the reason to ask me out on a date was to have awesome sex in exchange.” I cock an eyebrow at him and he scoffs a laugh, caught off guard.

I love that he’s still this… innocent, even after what we just did this morning (or last night)(or the night before…). I’m living a charmed life.

He looks at me with shiny eyes, “No, I actually asked you out to stop you from ripping my clothes off every time you can, at least you have to keep your hands off until we’re outside.”

“As if you didn’t enjoy-“ I start to snap back, but he cover my mouth with his hand.

“Don’t finish the sentence.” He laughs, warning me. We’re leaning on the fence of the skating ring, but there aren’t many people right now, because it’s almost lunch. “I asked you out also because I wanted to see you being not good at something and Delia told me that you’ve never been ice skating at Central Park, so here we are. Penny and I made a bet, on whether I could find five things you aren’t good at.”

“And how many have you found yet?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow, when he takes off his hand from my mouth. Skating won’t be in those things, Snow, sad to disappoint you!

I suck at so many things. I hope you’ll never realize just how much.

“I don’t know, show me what you can do.” He says, sliding away from the fence, he doesn’t let go of my hand, tough, like he’s worried I’ll actually fall.

“You know, Delia probably told you that I haven’t been ice-skating _here_.” I point out and he shrugs.

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

SIMON

Baz Pitch is literally spinning on ice like a fucking ballerina. As soon as I tried to teach him, he let go my hand and started spinning around like he has done nothing else in his entire life.

I look at him with my mouth slightly open, my jaw might have dropped somewhere between on of his jumps and the following ones.

He comes back to me with a grin, making a little curtsy, a little out of breath. Twat. “Sorry to be such a disappointment, Snow.”

“Is there something you _can’t_ do?” I groan in frustration, but I’m feeling more turned on than anything.

“We’ll found out eventually, I guess.” He laughs and traps me between his body and the fence. “You were very distracting, though, I almost failed one of the Lutz.”

“One of the what?” I ask, brow furrowed, “No, actually my question is: what the fuck was that? Where did you learn to ice skate like _that_?”

“There was a frozen lake near home, Delia and I always went there until Daphne was tired of our injuries and hired someone to actually teach us how to skate properly.” He shrugs, like he isn’t able to do something amazing.

“Oh, yeah?” I mumble, “So Mordelia can do that too?”

“Yes, even if her Flips suck.” He snorts.

“Is there some other hidden talent I don’t know about?” I ask, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “And sex related puns are not allowed.”

“My sexual skills are not hidden at all, didn’t you notice just _how_ _talented_ I am?” he retorts sarcastically, kissing me. It’s a teasing kiss, just to allude to what happened just before we left this morning. I feel my cheeks turn red thinking about it.

“Your mouth is indeed very talented in saying bullshits,” I snap back, laughing, my face hidden in his coat. Winter will always be my favourite season if it allows me to kiss Baz when we are outside. It’s good to pretend that I’m allowed to love him all the time and not just when we’re home (do I love him?)(does _he_ love _me_?). “I’ll find out all your secrets, Mr. Pitch, watch out.”

“I’m counting on it, Simon Snow.” He says it so carefree that I let myself believe I can find every hidden piece of Baz’s soul and hold them in my heart forever.

“I’ll have to scold Delia for tricking me into thinking I found something you weren’t good at. Penny will be very disappointed.” I sigh, to lighten the atmosphere.

“There are many things I’m not good at.” He says, casually.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He leans closer to my ear, his scarf tickles my chin. “For example, I’m not very good at _not_ looking at you when you’re anywhere near me.” He murmurs softly, like it’s a secret, “I’m not good at all at _not_ wanting you to kiss me and I’m absolutely terrible at keeping my hands off of you.”

“These things don’t count,” I say, swallowing hard. “you’re just horny.”

“I’m not horny, it’s what my hot boyfriend does to me.” He shrugs, matter-of-factly.

I kiss him to shut him up, because if he doesn’t stop talking I might as well implode at any minute.

“C’mon, let’s skate.” I tell him, when he moves back, “I’m not wasting our date doing what we could have done at home.”

He sighs dramatically, but grabs my hand and we start skating around, chatting about whatever, because it’s not really what we talk _about_ that matters; it’s that we are together.

-

BAZ

I am fucking turned on when the elevator’s doors open and Simon is looking at me with that wicked smile, his lips red as a rose. “Bathtub. Now.” I groan against his lips and I drag him behind me. I need Simon Snow naked like right fucking now. He’s been teasing me all day. I might explode.

But.

“What the fuck?” I blur out, stopping in the middle of the living room so abruptly that Simon crashes against my back.

“Baz, what…?” he mumbles, stepping from behind me to see what’s happening. “Oh, hey, guys!” he says cheerfully, waving with his free hand (I might be squeezing his other one a little bit too much out of frustration, so I try to lighten my grip, but he doesn’t let it go, just squeezes it back to let me know I didn’t hurt him).

My living room is actually overcrowded by all of Simon’s friends (mine too, maybe)(I don’t know if we are friends).

Mordelia, Penny, Shepard, Sam, Matt and Elly look at us smiling, waving theirs hands, greetings us.

“Baz, Simon! Finally, we’ve waited for you for ages.” Mordelia says.

“What are you all doing here?” I ask, brow furrowed. I’m probably being rude, but… I had plans. Like, very urgent plans.

Simon pulls me with him to the couch and he pushes me on it, till I give up and sit down with a groan.

“Planning New Year’s Eve.” Penny says, with a knowing look in my direction. I roll my eyes at her and she smirks.

Simon sits on my lap. Like he doesn’t know just how much infuriating this already is. Like… now he must now, he must _feel_ it. He places his back against my chest and wraps my arms around his body, keeping them in place. “Great, what are we doing?”

“I proposed stargazing, but evidently that’s just a thing in Omaha, not in New York.” Shepard sighs and Penny pinches his knee, she’s sitting on the floor right next to his legs. Maybe there’s something going on between them after all, Simon might have been right. I gotta ask Mordelia about it, she knows for sure.

“The only thing you can stargaze at New York are streetlights.” Matt snorts matter-of-factly.

“Besides, Baz offered to let us party here, so we don’t wanna waste that chance.” Mordelia says.

“I… offered?” I mumble, confused. I haven’t really.

“Yes, so we’re gonna all party here.” She exclaims, clapping her hands. What a menace she is.

At least, this means I’ll have both Simon and my bedroom within reach on New Year’s Eve, so I guess it’s a win-win.

I groan, though, hiding my face in Simon’s neck. “Fine. But _you’ll_ clean it up, not Rosa nor me.”

“Deal.” She says and then she gets back to her list, arguing animatedly about the games we’ll play and we’re gonna eat and stuff.

My brain shuts off, because I’m really, really busy getting lost in Simon’s scent, which is very intoxicating, at the point that I can’t think about anything else.

“You okay?” Simon murmurs in my ear, after a while.

“I’d be better in that bathtub.” I murmur back, so that he’s the only one able to hear me.

“Well, I don’t have plans this evening, do you?” he smiles wickedly and I kiss him, because there is just a certain amount of time I can go without kissing Simon Snow when he’s this close and it’s out of stock.

“Stop sucking your faces off, assholes!” Sam laughs.

“Gross.” Elly agrees, laughing too.

“Go find a room!” is Mordelia’s comment.

I groan, when Simon moves back laughing, “You are the cockblockers here, I’m just kissing my _boyfriend_.” I roll my eyes as theatrically as I can and Simon slaps my arm, not hard, just to stop my words.

“Shut up!” he laughs, getting all red and shy. God, this man is absolutely adorable. He squeezes both my hands, though. I know it’s because of the word I used. He loves it when I call him my boyfriend and I love calling him my boyfriend, so that’s fair.

Turns out, the cockblockers ordered pizza for everyone, so we all eat in the living room, laughing and planning the party. There is a tiny, tiny part of me that is glad they are, because we always have a good time when they are around. The remaining 80% of me is still dying for that bath though.

I overhear a conversation between Sam and Snow while they’re washing the dishes and I know I shouldn’t be listening, but I caught up that name, so now they have all my attention…

“I met Agatha the other day and I invited her over for a Wine Saturday?” he says, but it sounds more like a confession, like he’s feeling guilty.

Agatha. Simon’s ex-girlfriend.

“You did _what_?” Simon blurs out and I can’t see his face, but I know he is widening his eyes.

“I didn’t know you and Baz were officially together now and I’ve seen her and I just thought that maybe you could remove the comma you put after Agatha and change it in a dot. Or maybe seeing her would’ve helped you understand what you want from Baz. I don’t know. It sounds stupid now that you’re boyfriends.”

“I don’t want anything from Baz,” Simon snorts and my heart stops beating; I’m afraid they can hear me slowly dying, but then he adds, “I just want him, period.”

My heart goes from dead to racing full speed in a fraction of second.

Sam says something that I can’t quite understand and then, “I’m sorry, I just thought that maybe you and Agatha could be friends again, you loved each other in college, like… even before you were together, you two were great friends.”

“Yeah, before she dumped me for some guy.” He points out. Like he’s jealous.

There is a storm of feelings going on. The strongest one is the urge to punch the wall.

It’s just a little bit too much, so I get in the kitchen, making my presence known. Snow smiles at me as soon as he spots me, but there is something off about it. Guilt, maybe.

I place the glass on the counter and I leave, without saying anything, without even really looking at him.

I just want to scream.

If Simon sees Agatha it won’t take much for him to realize that he deserves more than me.

I go straight to my room, without even saying goodbye to them, I know that if I tried to talk now, I’ll end up shouting my feelings all over the place and I still have some dignity.

I slam the door behind me. I hate this.

I’m gonna lose Simon Snow, because that’s exactly what always happen to me: people leave. All the damn time.

Snow sneaks in my room a while later, after knocking shyly on the door. The house has gone quiet, so I figure his friends are gone.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, without turning around, because I’m not really that brave. And I am angry. So fucking angry. If with him or with myself, I can’t tell.

“Thought we had plans for tonight,” he says, his voice low, like he’s afraid he might scare me off. “I was promised a hot bath.”

“You know where the bathroom is.” I snap back as coldly as I can. Why am I like this?

“What’s wrong?” he asks somewhere behind me, stepping closer. I see his reflection on the window, melting with the lights of the city.

Everything is quiet for a few minutes, like the world is waiting for me to make a fool of myself. “I heard you talking about Agatha.” I split it out like it’s venom.

“Then you also heard that I don’t care about her anymore.” He says cautiously.

SIMON

He snorts, like he doesn’t believe him. I don’t understand why he is upset about this, “It’s not like I’m the one who invited her over or anything. I haven’t seen her in years.” I shrug, because I don’t really know what to say.

“Well, now you’ll see her and fix everything between you two and live happily ever after, congrats.” He says, still not looking at me. His back is so tense that he looks even taller than usual.

“There is nothing to fix.” I tell him and I reach out to brush my knuckles against his arm, but he slides away.

“Please, don’t touch me.” He says and I let my arm fall. Baz has never ever asked me not to touch him and that’s what makes me realize that he’s really hurt or angry about it. Maybe both. Probably both.

“Why would I want Agatha when I have you?” I point out. I just want him to understand that he’s the best thing ever happened to me.

“Maybe because you’re not over her.” He blurs out, teeth clenched together. “As she bumped you and not vice versa.”

“I told you that I didn’t love her that way.”

“And because she can give you things I cannot.” He finishes in a whisper. I just really want to hold him, but I’m not allowed to right now. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships. I shouldn’t have broken my own rule.”

I feel like he just slapped me. I know he’s just trying to provoke me, but it still hurts as hell. “Fuck you, Baz.” I blur out, “You’re doing exactly what you promised not to do anymore: you’re cutting me off just because you’re angry. Well, guess what, I won’t let you.”

“I beg your pardon?!” He snorts loudly, turning to face me. His face is a cold mask, but his eyes are sparkling with flames. He's not looking at my eyes, though. It’s like he’s miles away.

“You heard me. I won’t just run away because you treat me like shit. I can bear it better than you can imagine.” I say, crossing my arms, pointing my chin up. “C’mon, burst it all out. Tell me exactly how terrible of a boyfriend I am.” I emphasise the word ‘boyfriend’, just to remember him that he cares about me. I need him to have some sort of reaction; I can bear him screaming, but I can’t bare his neutral expression.

“Fuck _you_.” He says. He’s pressing his teeth together so hard that I see his muscle clench on his jaw. “Go home.”

“No.” I shake my head, “I won’t just leave you, even if you’re being an ass. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but it’ll because you asked me, not because I wanted to. Because leaving you is the last thing I wanna do. Ever. You insufferable twat.”

He looks at me with his eyes semi-closed and I recognize it for what it is: jealousy.

“You’re jealous of a memory, Baz. What I feel for you is more than I’ve ever felt for anyone. Even when you’re being an idiot like now. Especially when you’re being an idiot.”

“I’m not jealous.” He snorts, but his expression softens a little.

I roll my eyes, “Then what are you? Because I’m really trying to understand. You were about to kiss me senseless in front of our friends like an hour ago and now you’re barely looking at me.” I step closer, leaving him space, not touching him. “Look at me, please. I’m here.”

His eyes meet mine reluctantly, after a long silence. “It’s just… she was your first girlfriend.” He says. It’s not a question, it’s a fact.

“And you are my first boyfriend.” I point out and the corner of his mouth flinches.

“But she was all your first stuffs.”

“Not all of them, just some. Who cares, though? You had many people in your bed before me, but they are in the past, exactly as Agatha.”

He scoffs a cold laugh, “It’s not the same thing, I didn’t love them, I barely knew them. They were just sex.”

“And Agatha was and is just a friend, who I happened to kiss. Nothing more.” I know I’m being dismissive, but I just want him to understand that she doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, if not more than an old friendship.

“You said you wanted to marry her, I wouldn’t call her just a friend.”

I know I told him that bit, now I feel so stupid for doing it. “I said it, yes. It’s just because I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like between us. I didn’t understand that I could have more at the time. Now I do, now that I have you. You make me feel in ways I’ve never felt before.”

“Besides,” I tell him, smiling a little, “what matters is not who my first was, but who my last is. And I want you to be the last kiss I give every night before falling asleep.”

This reaches him loud and clear; I can see it in the way his eyes soften.

“You are a nightmare, Simon Snow.” He rolls his eyes, but there is a tiny smile on his lips.

“ _Your_ nightmare.” I snap back. And then, just because I have to be sure, I ask, “Are _we_ okay?”

“Yes.”

“Can we cuddle, then?”

“Yes.” He breathes out and closes the distance between us.

I know the argument isn't really over and that we'll probably talk about it again, but for now I'm happy to just hold him in my arms. 

We're okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it took me a while to update!  
> This chapter is a bit of a mess, hope you'll enjoy anyway
> 
> So, i may or may not have re-read all The Raven Cycle in three days. What a nerd. 
> 
> Take care x


	32. drawing constellations and bubbles

BAZ

“Mine,” I murmur against the newly marked skin of Simon’s neck. “Mine, mine, mine.” I kiss a trail of kisses over the freckles on his shoulder.

He hums lowly, the shade of a smile on his pink lips. “’m sleepin’.” He mumbles, but moves his head back to allow me better access to his neck.

Simon’s sprawled on his belly in my bed, more naked than not, his hair a curly mess on the pillow. I run my fingers through it because I can. I rolled on top of him when he yawned about ten minutes ago and I’ve showered him with kisses (and hickeys) since then.

I may or may not have felt like a dick for the whole night because of what I told him yesterday. I was tired and pissed off and it just came off too angry than I really was. In my mind I perfectly know that it wasn’t Simon’s fault that his friend invited Agatha over, but it still felt like a treason.

But now I really, really feel awful for treating him like that.

He doesn’t really look angry, though. Maybe that’s on the kisses. I leave another mark on his skin, two, three. Mine, mine.

He moans softly, almost a whisper, like a secret.

I tickle his hips with my fingers and he groans, hiding a laugh. He shakes his body a little, “Get off, Baz, I’m sleeping.”

“No.” I say, pressing myself more against him, sliding my arms under his chest and holding him tightly.

“What are you, a fucking koala?” He snorts, but adjusts himself to be more comfortable under me.

“Yes, a very hot one.” I murmur, my cheek completely pressed against his back. His skin is so warm that I might as well be hugging the sun.

He groans again and tries to flip us around, but he fails miserably. “As I obviously can’t asleep anymore, I’d like to at least turn, so I can kiss you properly.”

“No,” I bite his shoulder gently, “You stay exactly like that. I do the kissing, you can do the sleeping,” I say, moving back a little, I sit on his ass, my legs on both sides of his body and I trail a finger along the knuckles of his spine. “or the moaning, if you want to be encouraging.”

“That depends on how good the kissing is.” He teases and lets his head fall on the pillow in surrender.

I brush my fingers on the moles on his back, linking them in invisible drawings. Simon’s body is like art.

Suddenly, an idea comes to my mind and I reach for the drawer of the nightstand, “Where are you going?” Simon protests, “We aren’t done yet.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re just beginning.” I grin, coming back to sit on Simon’s body.

He sighs, reassured and closes his eyes.

“These moles are like Ursa Major.” I murmur and I draw the lines to link them with the pen I just took from the nightstand.

Simon gasps at the feeling and his eyes snaps wide open. “What are you doing?”

“Uhm,” I mumble, slightly embarrassed because saying it it’s more cringe-y than it sounded in my head, “drawing constellations?”

“Don’t, please.” He snorts, moving again.

I place my hands on his lower back, rubbing his skin softly. “Why not?”

He goes quiet for a second, then says, “I hate all my stupid moles and freckles. I don’t want you to see just _how many_ they are.”

I roll my eyes, because how dares he? “Too bad, because I love them. I’m not planning on ever stop kissing them, I’ll manage count them all sooner or later.”

His cheeks flush showily and his posture relaxes a little. “Why?”

Because they are like stars, Simon Snow. Your body is like a perfect night sky.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “I just do.” I say and I lean to kiss the mole right under his ear (that’s one of my favourite).

“Fine.” He agrees after a while and I pick up the pen again, getting back to my work.

SIMON

I feel a little uncomfortable at first with my body being studied like this, but the more Baz talks and brushes his fingers, the pen and his lips on my freckles, I start to relax and let him wander my body as he pleases.

“These ones over here form Cassiopeia. Beautiful.” He breathes on my skin, tracing them with the pen. It tickles a little, but the goosebumps on my skin are more due to Baz’s words and soft lips than the tickling.

 _Beautiful_.

I don’t feel beautiful, but when Baz says it likes that, he makes me want to believe it for a while.

It’s getting a bit overwhelming, so I tease him, “You owe me a bath after this. Pen’s ink is the worst to wash off.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help.” He replies, and I can feel the smirk in his voice.

When he’s done drawing my body like a damn canvas, he slides his hands over it and lies on my body like a blanket (a pretty cold blanket)(I can’t complain, though, not really).

“I never said you’d bath with me, just that I’ll have your giant posh bathtub at my mercy.” I shrug casually (as if I would really even consider wasting the chance to bath with Baz). His hands slide between me and the mattress and stops on my belly, making me shiver. I may have a stiffy by now. Blame the kisses, not me.

(Not that Baz isn’t as turned on as I am)(I feel it very clearly on my back).

“No way, I was promised a hot bath yesterday and I’m still waiting.” He says, pressing his cheek against mine; there is a slight shade of beard on his jaw and the sensation it’s beautiful, so I rub my face against it. “I’ll handle the ‘bath’ part, but I’m counting on you for the ‘hot’.”

I laugh a little at that, “I thought you were the hot koala here, not me.”

“You’re right, I’ll handle the ‘hot’ too. You’ll just have to bring your naked ass, then.”

I roll my eyes and I move to make him roll off of me, just to get on top of him (how the turning tables). I put my hands in his hair, pulling them a little and his lips part. I bite his bottom lip, gently. “Twat.”

“Not the way to talk to your boss, Snow.” He says, pupils wide and breath short.

“It is, if your boss is also your annoying _boyfriend_.” I let the word roll on my tongue slowly, tasting it.

“Will you ever stop saying it like that?” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Like what?”

“Like some sort of magic spell or something.”

“Uhm, I don’t think so, no.” I tell him and he rolls his eyes, before kissing me full on the lips, his tongue chasing mine in a messy dance.

We kiss for like a second a three thousand centuries, skin on skin, legs intertwined. His hands everywhere. My hands everywhere. Breaths melted together.

When we finally get in the bathtub, a long, long time later, I feel as light as a feather. (“Seriously, Snow? Bubbles?”)(“It’s my hot bath, shut up!”)

I don’t know what’s gotten to Baz today – especially after what happened yesterday – but he’s soft and tender in a way that is so rare that I wanna enjoy every minute of it to the fullest.

I’m sitting between his legs, my back to his chest and I lean my head on his shoulder, placing my nose right under his jaw. I sigh contently and Baz wraps his arms around me.

“Fucking finally. This was supposed to happen yesterday.” He says, squeezing me contently. I love how deep his voice sounds in the silence of the room.

“I know you had fun yesterday, don’t lie.” I tease him.

He just groans in answer, so it’s a yes. “Maybe. But getting you off in the bathtub is way better than having pizza with your friends.”

“You wanna really go again? I’m knackered.” I sigh, but the idea lights a match in me. “Besides, they are _your_ friends too now.”

“Maybe.” He repeats and kisses the top of my head.

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn’t want you to leave.” He whispers after a while.

Oh. “I know you didn’t, it’s okay.” I whisper back, kissing his jaw. “We’re okay now, so it’s okay. We are, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Okay.” He breathes out.

“You’re kinda hot when you are jealous.” I say, hands wandering on his body.

“I wasn’t.” He snorts.

“No? What are all these hickeys for? Thought you wanted to make sure everybody knows I’m yours.” I laugh lightly.

He kisses my neck sheepishly. “But you are. Mine, I mean.”

“Yes and you mine.” I reply, playing with his hands. It still sounds weird on my tongue, but I feel how terribly true this is in my heart. Baz could wreck me in a millisecond if he wanted to.

We stay in silence for a while, just cuddling and whispering silent promises.

“You’re still a drama queen, though.” I tell him, only half joking and he scoffs a laugh.

“I’m not.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, sure, ‘Mr. I’ll spend 10.000 $ on a camera as a Christmas gift’. Not dramatic at all.” I tease him.

“That’s just because I’m very generous, what can I say.” He sighs casually and I snort.

“Okay, that was extremely generous and very unnecessary. Thank you again.” I concede and I squeeze his arm. 

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Stop thanking me. Have you tried it, anyways?”

“Not yet, no. I’m terrified to break it once it’s outside the box.” I confess. It’s still in the box, places carefully on my desk, where no one can touch it.

“Do me a favour and use it before the 15th of January.”

“Why?”

“There is… something in the box.” He shrugs, casually. “Under the camera.”

“What.” I mumble. “You already got me the camera, you didn’t have to buy me anything else.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” He says, then he adds, smirking, “And it’s something for me, too.”

“What is it?” I ask, brows furrowed.

“I can only tell you that there is a tuxedo involved.”

“What the fuck?” I snort, nervously, “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely, I never joke about bowties.” He nods imperiously.

“I saw that coming, let me tell you.” I laugh. “I love when you dress with that posh floral suits of yours.”

“Thought your favourite Baz was the one with that horrendous Christmas sweater with the red-nosed deer.”

“No,” I shake my head, and I reach back to play with his hair, “My favourite Baz is naked Baz, to be honest.” 

BAZ

A lot of kissing and touching later, after eventually also properly washing up, we get out of the bathroom and go downstairs to find an extremely moody Mordelia.

I don’t notice because of something she does or says, I see it even before she spots us. I notice because she isn’t wearing one of her elaborated outfits, she’s still in her pyjamas. Mordelia gets out of her room in pyjamas only when something is wrong.

When she sees us, she offers us half a smile, before rolling her eyes.

“What.” I tell her, rolling mine in answer.

“You two are disgustingly happy. Gross.” She snaps back. I let go Simon’s hand to pour us coffee (for him) and tea (for me).

“Is something wrong?” Simon asks her, cautiously, sitting beside her. “I can leave if you two need to talk or be alone or whatever.”

“No.” We reply at the same time.

Simon does a dumb smile but nod. “Okay.”

“So? Spill the tea.” I tell her. I sit in front of Simon, after handing him is mug.

“Dad called. He wants me to go back home tomorrow. He wants to spend New Year’s Eve with a family or some shit.”

Ah. He didn’t ask me. I can’t hide the fact that it hurts every time my father treats me like some stranger, even if I should be used to it by now.

Simon grabs my hand on the table and squeezes it to comfort me.

“And are you going to?” I ask, casually.

“Fuck, no. You’re here, I said that you needed your family too and as Fiona is in England, I’m the only Grimm or Pitch here.”

“Cheesy.” I say, but I can’t keep a little grin.

She smirks back, wickedly. “And I couldn’t lose the party I’m throwing at your place.”

“I should’ve seen that coming.” I roll my eyes, laughing. I bump my foot against hers, gently, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was basically a way to made up for last chapter's anger.
> 
> Simon deserves to be showered with love, so this is that.  
> They are soft, even if they like to pretend they aren't.
> 
> Take care x


	33. complaining to Penny and family reunion

SIMON

“I still don’t understand why he cancelled our plans for today…” I groan, handing Penny the photos I was checking out. “I’d say this one…”

“No, I wanted to use that one for the last part of the article… Give me that one, no – the one with the red suit.” She replies, pointing at another photograph. “He just had stuff do to, Simon. Drop it.”

I groan again for the like twentieth time in an hour. “Maybe he’s plotting something.”

“Sure, like what?” She rolls her eyes, writing something on her papers.

“I don’t know. Something. He never lets me down like this…” I sigh, dramatically.

We are adjusting the structure on our article about Baz’s style. Our _Swan Song_ , as Penny calls it. This is really not the best thing to do if you don’t want to think about Baz Pitch, as there are like thirty photos of him on the table all staring directly at me (also, the majority of them were taken the day we had sex for the first time, so…).

The fact is that Baz and I had to meet today and I had to sleep over, so that I was already there the 31st morning to help Mordelia set up the party. This morning, however, Baz texted me just ‘Sorry, something happened and I can’t make it today. See you tomorrow? X’. Like that.

Just _something happened_.

You can’t say stuff like that to someone who has anxiety.

My mind has literally made up like seventy-five different scenarios to explain why he couldn’t meet me, of which at least twenty end up with Baz’s house exploding or him suffering in some dark hallway.

I may have sent him more than ten messages, but he didn’t reply, so my anxiety just got worse.

Now I’m trying to cope in the only way I know: complaining with Penny. She put me at work, though. She didn’t let me just get sad on the couch (it’s both a nuisance and a relief, having something to do other than overthinking).

So now we’re working on the article about Baz’s style. On the table there are many pics I took, some of them from that day at his place, some I took other times. Many of them are just random shots, but they are so beautiful that I wanted to include them. I love how all the photographs makes him look softer than what he looks like in the article they usually write about him, because he has that look in his eyes that is always there only for me.

Of course I’ll ask him which shots we can use and which we can’t. The article is not ready, so we still have plenty of time to take other photos, if he dislikes these ones.

“Maybe he just wanted to get rid of your passive aggressive attitude for a day.” She shrugs, mocking me.

I flip her off rolling my eyes.

“No, seriously, Simon. Stop it. He’s not slowly dying somewhere or he wouldn’t have said ‘see you tomorrow’. He’s probably just busy. Relax and finish chosing the pics.”

“Fine.”

“Relaxing includes stop compulsively checking your phone.” She adds, cocking an eyebrow.

I sigh, tossing aside the phone. “But what if-“

“What if nothing. I’m sure nothing happened.”

BAZ

Fuck.

I know it had to happen at some point, but I thought I had more time.

More time to think about how to tell them.

But then they just showed up at my house, what was I supposed to do? I kind of panicked.

So I texted Simon not to come to borrow a little more time to decide what to do.

Objectively, I know what I gotta do. I have to tell them the truth; but it’s not as easy as this.

Coming out sucks. Always. What sucks even more about coming out, is that it’s not a universal experience: it’s not something you do once in your life and then that’s it, everybody knows. It’s a thing you have to do many times and every time it’s absolutely scary.

Heart racing, hands shaking, belly fluttering; wondering: will I lose them once they know? Maybe not, but something always changes all the same. For good or for worse. Wondering: will they still love me?

_Will they still love me?_

“Bro, this house is absolutely awesome! Would you adopt me?” Niall says, offer me his fist and I bump it with mine (that’s a thing that I always do only with Niall, just because it’s him).

“I don’t know, I’m not really into pets. Do you know how to use a litter, at least?” I shrug, laughing.

“I can learn.” He laughs, falling on the couch.

“Barbarian, get your feet off the coffee table, we literally just arrived, we can’t already tear down the place, wait at least until after the party.” Dev says rolling his eyes at him. He drops his suitcase on the floor and turn to me, smiling and opening his arms. “Hey, idiot.”

“Asshole.” I snap back, smiling and I hug him tightly. “What are you two doing here? You are on the wrong shore of the ocean.”

“London was boring without you, thought we could join your New Year’s Eve party.” He smirks.

“How do you know?” I say, cocking an eyebrow.

“My favourite Grimm told me. Speaking of, where is my little cousin?” He asks, looking around for Mordelia.

“ _I’m_ your favourite cousin, asshole. She’s at her friend’s house, said they had to ‘organize the games’ or some bullshit like that.” I shrug. She left yesterday with Shepard and I haven’t seen her since.

“Damn, we came all the way to New York only to see her and we have to low our standards to you.” He sighs dramatically and I slap his arm, scoffing a laugh.

Dev is not only my cousin, but also my best friend; if I have to say it all, I’d say that Niall is my best friend and Dev is my brother. Maybe they are both my best friends, maybe they are both my brothers. Either way, I love them. We’ve been friends since always, I can’t even remember a time I didn’t rely on them.

(So why didn’t I tell them I’m gay?)(Because I was absolutely terrified I might gonna lose them and as I didn’t plan on having a relationship, I didn’t think it was necessary to tell them. We just… don’t talk about these things. Or, to be honest, they know I have many one-night stands, I just simply never described them.)

Now they are here, though. So is Simon. I think it’s time to tell the truth.

_Will they still love me?_

I wanted to tell them when I came here. I thought that maybe it’d be easier to tell them on the phone, they’d had time to cool off after finding out and maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal… But then they started acting weird. A week or two after I moved to New York, they started to be colder with me, picking up the phone less often, being dismissive… At some point I thought that maybe they found out, but it was unlikely, as only my family knew, and it’s not something they talk about. I don’t know, something happened. I’m not sure what, though.

“So, how is New York treating you, Bazzie?” Dev asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. We sink on the couch next to Niall, me in the middle. My heart flutters at the nickname; I so missed these two.

“Not bad.” I shrug, but what I’d say is that New York is the best place in the world and not only because Simon Snow is here (even if he’s 90% of the reasons why).

“Have you already broken all the hearts from here to LA?” Niall teases me.

“Fuck, no. Who has the time being the youngest CEO of the company?” I snap back, shaking my hair for the theatricality. They know I’m joking, but it’s still funny.

“Oof, watch that attitude.” Dev snorts, laughing. “Besides, we’re here to help you on that front, we’ll get you wasted tonight and then we’ll go dance somewhere.”

“What?” I mumble. This wasn’t in the plans. I can’t just… fool around. And I sure as hell can’t hook up with a random someone. For obvious reasons which happen to have bronze curls and blue eyes.

“Yes, it’s been like four months since we last saw each other, we have to make up for lost time.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah and whose fault is that, assholes? If you just bothered picking up the phone...”

They share a sheepishly look that I understand only in part and they look everywhere but at me.

“So, what’s the matter about? Thought you replaced me.” I roll my eyes sarcastically (but there is just a spark of truth in my words).

“How could we? It’s not like you find a young CEO everywhere.” Niall shrugs.

“Though we tried. We even published an ad.” Dev sighs dramatically. (Yes, drama is in our DNA.)

“Yes, it was something like ‘looking for a brand-new CEO to befriend, who preferably wears posh suits and is an insufferable compulsive tea-drinker with bad music taste’. None showed up, God knows why.” Niall add and we all burst out laughing.

“My music taste is incomparable.” I snap back.

I feel happy and it’s easy to be around them. There is still that question fluttering in my ears, though.

_Will they still love me?_

“I asked mom to ask your father if you were coming home for the holidays, we didn’t want to come here and find out you were home.” Dev says, after a while.

Oh. That’s maybe why my father didn’t ask me to come back for the holidays. Not because he didn’t want me to. I let myself believe this is the reason why, because it’s the less painful.

“Does Mordelia knows you’re here?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. My sister has been a little obsessed with Niall, growing up. I think I’d have noticed if she was excited for something.

“Not unless she figured out… I just asked if she had plan for New Year’s Eve and she sent me a selfie of her at your place with a suspicious amount of alcohol, so I figured you were throwing a party.”

“It’s not really a party, just some friends.” I say, casually. “Anyways I’m starving, care to go eat somewhere?”

“Yes, please. We want to see you live the American dream, bro.” Niall laughs, getting up from the couch. “I’ll also need a beer to cope with jet-lag.”

-

When we get back later that noon, they are both practically sleep-walking. “Christ, Niall, if you start snoring I’ll leave you in the elevator, I swear.” I snort, when he leans on me to be carried in the living room.

“Don’t.” Dev yawns, “He’ll drool on the floor, you’ll have to clean up.”

“Fine.” I say, “I’ll take him upstairs, your room is connected to Mordelia’s, but hopefully she won’t notice you’re here till tomorrow morning, so Niall is safe from her for now.”

Dev laughs and says, “I’ll stay here for a bit more, I’ll wait on the couch.”

I take Niall to their room and I drop him on the bed, “Didn’t you have to get me wasted?” I tease him.

He looks at me, yawning, his eyes half closed. “I’ll just take a nap and then we’ll go. I’ll be like new in five minutes.”

“Sure.” I laugh and I cover him with the blankets, because… just because. Niall is like a puppy, you can’t just not take care of him.

I fall on the couch next to Dev a while later and I hand him a beer.

“Thanks.” He says, taking a sip. We can see the city shining in the black sky through the big windows. “This is even better than in movies.”

“It’s not the first time you come to New York.” I remind him.

Ne nods, distract. “We almost always stayed at the Hamptons when we were kids and it’s been years since the last time I crossed the ocean…”

“Sappy.” I retort, bumping my shoulder against his.

“How are you really doing?” He asks, after a moment, turning to look at me. “You’ve been acting more weird than usual all day.”

“Good, I guess. At work it’s a bit-“

“Not work, just in life, Bazzie. I wanna know if you are happy.” He says, I think he might be looking right through me.

And maybe this is the right moment.

_Will you still love me?_

My hands start shaking a little, so I tighten my grip on the beer bottle. I hate feeling like this, even if I should be used to it by now, it’s not like it’s the first time I come out to someone.

I can do it.

“I am, actually. Very happy.” I tell him, honestly. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“First… I have to tell you that I’m sorry I kept it hidden from you, and from Niall. It’s just… I don’t know, it wasn’t easy.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, his head slightly on his side.

“I… I have a boyfriend?” I say, even if it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“What?!” He exclaims, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I know I-“ I mumble, but he cuts me off.

“Took you almost 25 years but you finally broke that stupid-ass rule of not doing relationships! He must be really great, if he made you change your mind.”

“Oh, he is - Wait, what?” I mutter, cocking an eyebrow.

“What?” He repeats, confused.

“That’s what surprises you, not that I’m… gay?” I mumble. Saying it makes me feel lighter, free from a little burden.

“Christ, no.” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like a didn’t suspect it, I’ve always seen you check out blokes and stuff like that… I’m glad you told me.”

“Oh.” Maybe I am not as subtle as I thought.

“You are literally my best friend, Baz, I’m just happy you’re happy. What bothers me is that you didn’t tell me sooner, but I guess we’re even. I kind of feel like a hypocrite.” He ends in a whisper, like he’s talking more to himself than to me.

“Even? For what?” I ask, now completely confused. This conversation isn’t really going as I imagined it.

“I don’t know if I can tell you, we agreed to wait until New Year… He’ll kick my ass.”

“Spill the tea, asshole.” I say, pocking his arm kindly. “You’re making me worry.”

“Niall and I are… together. Like, as a couple.” He murmurs, after a while.

“No way! What? Since when?”

I’m shook. I just… How did I miss something like this?

“When you moved here, we ended up going out just the two of us and it kind of happened, without you there. We’ve always been a little oblivious about it, but it just… happened. One night we were in the car and then he just kissed me. And I kissed him back.”

“Am I mistaken or did you just say I was the cockblocker between you two?” I scoff a laugh and he smirk.

“Sort of. With you there we were just the three caballeros as always, with you gone… We couldn’t ignore our feelings anymore.”

“Then I’m glad I left. Even if I really miss not seeing your stupid faces every day.” Something clicks in my brain, “Wait, that’s why you started acting weird?”

“Uhm, yes. We didn’t know how to tell you, we didn’t want you to feel betrayed or something. I don’t know, we came here now to tell you, I didn’t want to do it on the phone.”

I roll my eyes, but I wrap my arm around his shoulders and I hug him tightly. “I’m happy for you, I definitely didn’t see that coming.”

“Me neither.” He laughs, squeezing me. “I’d tell you how my boyfriend is, but you already know everything about him, so at least you don’t want the sex details…”

“Please, no. Gross. It’s Niall, I couldn’t look at him the same way anymore.” I scoff a laugh.

“Then tell me about your boyfriend.” He smirks, the adds flushing, “I mean, not the sex bit. The rest.”

“Simon is… Well, he’s Simon. He challenges me, all the time. And he makes me laugh, so much. He’s disgustedly fit, like super hot.” I lose myself in my mumbles, thinking about him.

“And is this Simon coming to the party tomorrow?”

“Yes, he had to sleep here tonight, but… fuck. I said I was busy, because you showed up and I panicked. I haven’t checked my phone since, he’s probably freaking out.” I say, getting up on from the couch to pick my phone.

There are 23 messages from Simon.

“Fuck.” I mutter.

“Go, call him. I’ll go to sleep anyway, I’m knackered.” He replies, walking to me. “Just… Can I tell Niall I told you about us? I don’t wanna make him stress about it, he’s been a pain the ass for literally all the flight. You have to hear all the big plans he had to tell you in a proper way.”

“Yeah, tell him, sure. You can tell him about me, too. It’ll soothe him about the fact that he wasn’t here when you told me.” I shrug, moving from one foot to the other.

“Okay.” He says, with a tiny smile. “Now go. You’re giving me anxiety.”

I rush to my room, calling Simon even before landing on the bed. He picks up after the first ring.

“Baz, fuck you. Are you slowly dying in a hallway? You better be. I almost called 911. You could just told me what you had to do instead of all the mystery. Twat.” He blurs out, without even saying hello. I smile unwillingly.

“I’m sorry, family reunion.” I tell him.

“Oh… Your father?”

“No, Dev and Niall.” He already knows everything about them and our friendship.

“Are they here?” he asks, I know he’s brushing his hand in his curls.

“Yes… And they told them about us.”

“I’m proud of you.” He murmurs softly, it makes my heart flutters. “How did it go?”

“Wanna have breakfast with us tomorrow?”

DEV

I help Niall take off his jeans and I get in bed; he rolls against me, all curled up like a cat. He hums contently when I kiss the top of his head. “Is your brain at least a tiny bit on?”

He just hums again and slides his hand under my shirt, so I take it as a yes.

“I told Baz about us.” I murmur, “I’m sorry I didn’t wait, it just came out.”

“It’s okay, what did he say?” He whispers, face pressed against my chest, eyes still closed. He gently caresses my hipbone with his thumb, as he always does when I’m worried or sad.

“He said that we’re having breakfast with his boyfriend tomorrow.” I tell him. I press my lips against his forehead, not kissing, only staying there

“His boyfriend?” He asks, without moving.

“Yes.”

“Good, I hope he likes pancakes. I’ll make pancakes to celebrate, yes.” He murmurs, before falling asleep again, still holding me like he’ll never let go.

I hope he won’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need you to tell me if this chapter is good or not, because I thought about deleting it like 12 times.  
> Also, are you in about the Dev&Niall part?  
> I'm worried I fucked up!
> 
> Fun fact: some of this chapter actually happened to me. Me and my bff have literally been besties since when we were 3 (I'm not even being dramatic, it's just a fact). In june 2020, we saw each other after some months apart (we live nearby, but... pandemic) and that day I came out to him as Pan. His answer was coming out as gay. That's it, we came out to each other at the same time. It was amazing (and quite funny). Now we can't wait to go to pride 2021 together. 
> 
> Coming out sucks. I still haven't came out to my family, but all my important friends know now and it's a relief.  
> I hope I'll manage to tell my family too, one day. It takes time.
> 
> Take care x   
> Sending love to all those who struggles with coming out. You are valid, it's normal to be afraid. You'll be okay <3


	34. New Year's Eve and Important Promises

SIMON

“Broadway, huh?” I say, when I see Baz waiting for me by the elevator. Last night I finally had the guts to pick up the camera Baz gave me for Christmas and I found two tickets for a theatre spectacle carefully tucked under it.

“Finally, I almost thought you’d never find them.” He grins, offering me his hand. “I’ve bought them just to see you in a tuxedo, really.”

“You’ve already seen me all dressed up, the first time we kissed at the exhibit.” I remind him, intertwining our fingers together. As soon as the doors close, he kisses me.

It’s sweet and fast, just lips brushing against lips. A good morning kiss and my heart flutters for the familiarity of it.

“So, Dev and Niall are a bit… loud. And bitchy. Well, not Niall, not really, he’s like a 5 years old who just laughs all the time. He fist-bumps everyone and call you bro and… Dev is quite an asshole, when he wants to, really, but it’s just a façade. He’s very awesome deep down, really. They really are a lot, sometimes-”

“They sound great.” I cut him off, squeezing his hand, smiling brightly at him. “I mean, if I can handle your dramatic ass, I can handle anything.”

He rolls his eyes, “I thought you liked my dramatic ass.”

“Oh, yes, your ass is my favourite ass in the whole world. It’s still dramatic, though.” I laugh and I get on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The doors open with a ding and we get in the living room, there is quiet some noise coming from the kitchen: laughs, voices, forks tickling plates. It feels like a happy family house.

The fact that Baz gets to have this makes me utterly happy. The fact that he lets _me_ have this with him fills me with so much joy that I can’t even express the feeling in my chest.

“Do you want a safe word? Like, if you have to run away.” He murmurs with a dumb, sarcastic smile.

“No, but maybe you’ll want one tonight.” I murmur back languidly, before getting in the kitchen, dragging him after me by his hand. I feel his gaze burning holes on the back of my neck. I love teasing him, I just can’t help it.

“Here he is! The man is here.” Says a tall guy with short shaved red hair, his arms completely tattooed. 

“Hi.” I smile and I kiss Mordelia’s cheek, who’s sitting at the kitchen counter eating an incredible pile of pancakes. My belly complains, hungry.

“Hi, Simon.” She says, gently pinching my arm.

The man sitting next to her gets up and offers me his hand. He’s as tall as Baz, has the same high cheekbones, but his skin is as porcelain white as Mordelia’s. His hair is black, pulled back in a big wave. “I’m Dev Grimm.”

I let go of Baz’s hand to shake his. “I’m Simon. I heard tons of things about you.”

“Only wicked things, I hope. I have a reputation to carry on.” He grins and there is something very Baz about it, but also not at all. It’s the same grin, but they wear it completely differently from each other.

“And I’m Niall, the cool one of the trio.” The other guy says, he offers me his fist and after glancing at Baz, who just shrugs ‘I warned you’, I bump it with mine.

“There is literally too much testosterone in this room for this early in the morning and I have to go buy some stuff for tonight with Matt.” Mordelia says, rolling her eyes. She gets up and heads for the living room, “I’ll see you later, losers. Get ready for New Year.”

Baz snorts and sit at her place, he takes a big slice of a pancake and eats it.

“I can help, if you want.” I tell Niall, pointing at the cookers, where he’s preparing the pancakes.

“Absolutely no, sit and eat, we have to start our interrogation as Baz told us shit about you. What a fucker. We have just a couple of days to get to know you.”

“Asshole, let him be.” Baz rolls his eyes and he gestures me to sit next to him. This is… quite terrifying. I hate feeling like I am under exam, because I know I’m gonna fail.

I try to change the topic from me, “Why is Mordelia moody?”

“When is she not, exactly?” Baz snaps back sarcastically.

“She said she is busy organizing the party. That, or because she’s been pining over Niall for half her life and now she found out he’s with me.”

Oh, they are… a couple? Baz didn’t tell me that.

“She wasn’t after me; she is like my little sister. You don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Niall says, throwing some flour at him.

“Except for the fact that she totally was, pining that is.” Baz says and he and Dev burst out laughing.

Seeing Baz like this is… refreshing.

When he’s with my (but now are also his) friends, he smiles and laugh; but with Dev and Niall it’s a whole different story.

It’s like I just found a new piece of Baz. He’s… true. I wouldn’t know how else to say it.

I don’t even know how to properly explain it, it’s just something I sense from the way is body is completely relaxed, to wrinkles at the corners of his smiley eyes.

“So, Snow, you have to know that these two hypocrites have been annoying me for not telling them about us, when they’ve been hiding from me, their favourite human being in the whole universe, that they are a couple. Dev also said I am a cockblocker.” He says with a faux-pissed-off expression.

“I didn’t say that, asshole, I just said that it happened when you left.” Dev snaps back, slapping Baz’s hand when he tries to pick the bottle of the maple sirup.

“It didn’t just _happen_ ; _I_ was the one who made it happen.” Niall snorts, turning off the cookers and sitting in front of us, on the other side of the counter.

I watch them argue with an amused smile and when they finally stop bickering, I say “Well, Baz really is kind of a cockblocker, anyway.”

Baz turns to me with wide eyes, while Dev and Niall burst out laughing. “I beg your pardon?!” He growls and I just bump my shoulder against his, smiling.

“So, here I was the one who did the first move between us.” Niall says, moving his hand between himself and Dev, “What about you two?”

“Well, Baz kind of stalked me the first weeks, so I guess it’s him… But I’m the one who kissed him first, though.” I say, the memories of that Starry Night still fresh in my mind.

“I stalked you?” Baz snorts, his eyes are shining shining shining. “You were the one who showed up asking to write an article about me and I kept finding you everywhere, even at lunch!”

“Fine, maybe we were both a little obsessed with each other, but I regret nothing.” I shrug and I catch his hand, which is lazily resting in his lap.

He squeezes it, before enlacing our fingers. “Me neither, except that time you almost knocked me off with the bathroom’s door the first day, and that horrendous sweater… It was almost enough to make me pick a plane and go back home.” He laughs, teasing me.

“Said the one who made a catwalk the first time he entered in the office, you looked so posh you almost made me want to punch you.”

I laugh because my body can’t contain the joy and the memories anymore. I feel… happy. Just happy. Truly happy. I want this feeling to never stop.

“Oh, that’s classic, bro. You should’ve seen him at school, he did that every time he got in the dining hall.” Niall says, pouring even more topping on his pancakes as I did. I already like him, he just loves food as much as I do.

We spend the morning sharing stories and memories, laughing and joking. I could genuinely stay here all day listening about that time Baz lost a bet and had to go to class in his pyjama or that time they accidentally burnt Niall’s bed while smoking.

It’s like they are offering me all the puzzle pieces I needed to figure out more of Baz.

-

After eating what may be considered like way too many pizza even by someone like me (or Niall), it’s time to go, so we got all dressed up to deal with the winter air and we leave Baz’s place.

I wonder what people think when they see us, we are a not a so-likely group: there is Penny, who’s wearing her colourful socks because she lets herself wear them on this happy occasions, bickering with Shepard over God knows what in a very dramatic way, followed by Mordelia who today definitely decided to dress as an hippie; Elly, who looks like she just go out from the gym, with her blue gym suit, drinking beer out of a water bottle; Matt and Sam, who are taking too many selfies with everyone and everything like two tourists; there is Niall, holding Dev’s hand, and pointing at every skyscraper, yellow taxi and Christmas tree with an enthusiast smile; there is Dev, holding Niall’s hands, trying to keep up with his boyfriend’s excitement for the city that never sleeps.

I wonder what people think when they see Baz and me. We’re walking pressed together, but not quite holding each other. Our hands keep chasing after each other’s, brushing and knocking kindly together. There are too many people around us to actually… Be us. But Baz keeps looking at me with _that_ smile and it's enough. More than enough, it’s perfect.

He's wearing one of his floral posh suits (even if now it’s half hidden under his coat) and it makes my heart spin. I love when he lets himself be, just as he is.

I wonder what people think when they see us. Maybe they see something that resembles a family.

That’s what I see: my family.

Times Square is already overcrowded, but we get a good spot to see the ball at midnight. As soon as we are surrounded by the crowd, bodies pressed together in a messy troop of people, I feel Baz’s hand sliding down my wrist and enlacing our fingers together. I give him a big smile and I lean closer to his body, resting my head on his shoulder.

When the excitement is at its best, when the countdown is about to begin, I feel Baz’s hot breath against my ear. “Promise me we’ll spend New Year’s together next year.” He says, his voice low and hoarse.

I turn to look at him and our eyes lock together, I don’t know what happens inside me, but suddenly everything seems more colourful, more crystal-clear. I feel loved, I feel like it’s simple. I feel like we’re gonna be okay.

“I promise.” I say. And I think, _Please, world, allow us to keep this promise_.

I don’t know for how long we stay like that, faces just one breath away, grey eyes lost in blue ones; maybe three seconds, maybe a thousand year.

The next thing I know is that the crowd explodes in a cheerful scream. The countdown has begun, the ball begins to move, thousands of voices scream together. The only thing I can hear, though, it’s Baz’s steady breath beside me.

“Three! Two! One!”

“Happy New Year, Simon Snow.” Baz tells me, barely an inch away from my face. The crowd is jumping and screaming, our friends are kissing and hugging around us. Everyone is happy, here and now.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Pitch.” I smile and he rolls his eyes before kissing me full on the mouth.

For a single second, I know our hearts beat as one.

Then I pull away, already out of breath and I mumble, pushing Baz’s chest a little. “Baz, wait, people will see us…”

“They won’t, there are too many people.” He shrugs, “Besides, I don’t care right now, we’re celebrating. I want us to have this, just this time. Come here.”

He cups my face with his hands pulling me closer and he kisses me again, sweet and slow. Honey pouring from his lips to mine. For a second, I think, _I love you_. And it’s not even scary. Just for a second.

It’s like the words want to be said,

_I love you._

Then he lets me go when our friends pull us is a messy group hug and we join their laughters. This is gonna be a great year, full of love, surrounded by the greatest group of friends anyone ever had. Finally surrounded by a family.

-

There is an absurd amount of alcohol and food in the living room and in the kitchen, the music is playing loud from the speakers in corner and Mordelia set up some weird colourful lights, so the room is quite dark, but somehow joyful. We’re all a little fuzzy, heads spinning with alcohol, when we come back home.

Mordelia, Shepard and Penny have organized many games, that goes from Beer Pong (at which Baz and Dev kick everyone’s asses)(I was in team with Niall, but we lost at the first match) to Drunk Jenga (I lost again, but it was funny to see the tower fall down on Baz and Penny) to others I forgot the names of, but which still involved many shots.

BAZ

“What do we say about… Never Have I Ever?” Mordelia laughs loudly, she’s more drunk than not, all big smile and red eyes.

“Never Have I Ever actually wanted to play that game?” I groan, but we still sit in a circle on floor. Simon stumbles on his feet and almost fall down, so I kindly pull him down to sit on my lap, he’s on the good way to an epic hangover. For now, Dev and I are the one who are more sober, as we won every match of Beer Pong, but we still drunk a lot.

I wrap my arms around Simon, who turns his head to look at me, smiling stupidly. Seeing him like this gives me butterflies, he’s like a baby, laughing at everything. “You want me to sit here just to cheat and look at my cards.”

“We’re not even playing cards, Snow.” I laugh and he kisses the corner of my mouth (probably he was aiming for the lips, but he didn’t manage).

“I don’t mind, though. You’re a comfy chair.” He says pressing his back against my chest, his forehead against my neck.

The game goes as always: embarrassing questions are asked; embarrassed sips are taken.

(I’ll have to remember to ask Simon why did he take a sip at _Never have I ever done a lap dance_ , because I _need_ to know this story.)

After that it’s Truth Or Dare turn, at which I roll my eyes, because what are we, like in second grade? But they all wanna play, so I give up in the end.

After many turns, the bottle stops on me (or maybe Simon, as he’s sitting on my lap) and Dev grins, “Truth or dare, Bazzie?” He’s sitting between Niall’s legs and it’s both weird and cute to see them like this. I’m still not used to it, but I see just how happy they are.

“Dare.”

“Oh, fine. I already thought about the truth.” He groans, rolling his eyes. “Then I dare you to… Do Seven Minutes in Heaven with the sexiest person in the room.” He ends, winking at Simon, who giggles (terribly adorable).

“So you’re daring me to… be closed in a tiny space with my hot boyfriend? How will I ever survive.” I sigh, dramatically.

“I know, idiot. I just wanted to make Simon stop looking at you like he wants to eat you here and now.” Devlaughs, “Go, before I change my mind and I make you run in New York’s streets naked.”

I feel my cheeks turn red, but I get up nonetheless, bringing Simon to his feet as well. He looks at me sheepishly and follows me upstairs.

Niall shouts laughing, “Just seven minutes, bro!”

When we get in my room, Simon pushes me against the door, but his movements are a little slow and sloppy because of the alcohol. His hands run immediately to the button of my trousers, but I grab them and I push him to the bed, falling on top of him.

“We’re not having sex, slow down.” I laugh against his lips when he tries again to take off my pants.

“Why not?” he groans. “Please.”

“No, you’re too drunk.” I tell him, grabbing his hands and putting them over his head, intertwined with mine.

“’m not.” He mumbles, his eyes are so red that his irises look even more blue than usual. “What ‘bout… a blowjob?”

I roll my eyes and I kiss down his jaw, to his neck. “You’re beautiful.” I murmur, against his skin and his breath catches. I feel him half hard against my tight, but I can’t have sex with him if he won’t remember it in the morning.

This doesn’t mean we can’t kiss a little, though.

He moans softly when I kiss the spot on his neck that always drives him crazy; I love how well I know his body. “Why don’t you wanna have sex?”

“Because I like you too much, Simon.” I tell him, because he won’t probably remember in the morning. I know that now that we’re in a relationship I can tell him stuff like this, it’s just… it makes me feel vulnerable.

“Can I have at least a proper snog?” He asks, pouting and it makes me laugh, so I bite his bottom lip gently.

And I kiss him and I kiss him and I kiss him. He keeps kissing me back, rocking his hips against mine (what a menace he is!).

After a while (far more than seven minutes, though), someone knocks on the door shouting us to come back downstairs; Simon literally growls and wraps his arms around me, not willing to let go.

His lips now are as red as his eyes.

“C’mon, we have guests.” I tell him. He looks like he might fall asleep within seconds, but he’s still so gorgeous that it hurts to look at him. I get up from the bed, pulling him with him and I glance at the clock on the nightstand: 6.13 am.

“Wanna eat some pancakes. With pizza. Yes, I’ll do a sandwich, putting a slice of pizza between two pancakes. Genius.” He giggles, leaning on me to walk down the hallway. I can't contain the love that shakes all my body for this man, so I kiss his head, because it's easier than words.

Needless to say that we all fall asleep soon after, in a tangled mess of legs and bodies in the living room, surrounded by empty bottles and still half-full plates. The music is still on, when I close my eyes, pressing my face against the back of Simon’s neck.

_When you hold me  
In your arms so tight  
You let me know  
Everything's all right_

_I'm hooked on a feeling_  
I'm high on believing  
That you're in love with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Hooked on a Feeling", one of my all time favorite songs (If you don't know it, you better go and listen to it!)
> 
> I hope this was good! I'm glad you liked Deniall in the last chapter!  
> While writing this I ended up watching videos of New Year's in Time Square for like half an hour. 
> 
> Take care x


	35. no one's fault and breaking rules

BAZ

“Fucking congrats, Basilton. If you wanted to piss off your dad and fuck up everything you worked for, you did it.” Fiona shouts slamming the door of my office.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. That’s not likely to see Fiona shout, she’s always very chill. Usually, when she’s angry she copes in two ways: sarcasm or silence.

“Read this, you numpty.” She growls, throwing a magazine on my desk.

My jaw drops.

 _Does the Pitch Ink’s heir play for the other team?_ Is the title of the article; under it there is a random shot of me. With Simon.

“What the actual fuck…” I murmur under my breath. I feel Fiona’s gaze burning holes through me. I read it in a rush, trying to see if they know something, if they managed to get information about Simon. There isn’t anything, not even his name.

To be honest, the pic is blurry and taken from afar, so you can barely see my face, let alone Simon’s whose head is turned aside, you can only see his bronze curls. 

I feel my hands get sweaty. Why can’t they just let me be. I hate this fucking shitty world.

“You wouldn’t even be able to understand it’s me, if they didn’t say my name.” I crack out, voice catching in my throat.

“But it is you, isn’t it?” Fiona asks, messaging her temples.

“Yes.” I nod.

It’s me and Simon getting in my car the day we went to Broadway. Dammit, I know we shouldn’t have gone, but I couldn’t resist. We weren’t even kissing or anything, we didn’t even hold hands.

The camera captured the only moment Simon stumbled on his feet getting in the car, so I placed a hand on his hip to steady him. That’s it.

Me helping Simon get in the car.

We’ve been so fucking careful, there hasn’t been anything but accidental brushes all night, except for that touch just outside the theatre.

Fucking hell. Shit.

“I don’t know if your father has seen this yet, but he sure as hell will soon enough.” She says, squeezing her eyes. I see the gears spinning in his head.

Mine aren’t.

My brain has fucking short-circuited.

“What the fuck you want me to say? It was an accident. Christ. It’s not like I fucked Simon in the middle of a street, I was just fucking helping him get in the fucking car. Fuck.”

“We agreed you had to be careful. We worked hard for this, Basil. You risk losing the company now.”

“Well, I’m sorry my being gay _inconvenience you_. And all those motherfuckers of the stakeholders.”

“Fuck you, Baz. Seriously.” She snaps back, rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to play this game with me. I’m the one who always supported you, so you don’t get to treat me like one of those old white fuckers your father works with. You know I have no problems with who you are, but I have a huge problem with you throwing away the chance of your life. You worked hard for this, to get over you father. Don’t just let it slip through your fingers now that you are almost there.”

“I know you are not like those fuckers, I didn’t mean it.” I sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you want me to take over the company? Why don’t you do that yourself?”

She’s quiet for a while, staring at me with what look like exhaustion – and maybe a little bit of anger. “You’re the only family I have left, I want you to have what your mother wanted for you.”

Oh.

In that moment, the door opens and Simon – my beautiful, beautiful Simon – gets in. “Baz the papers are – Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy, I’ll come back later.”

“Stay, you’re part of the problem.” Fiona snorts, gesturing him to sit on the other side of the desk as me.

“He’s not a problem, don’t treat him like one. It was my fault, not his.” I tell her, because I may be angry, but I’m not angry at Simon. He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’s the one who always manages to keep his distance when we aren’t home, he’s the responsible one between us, even if the only reason we have to keep this secret it’s me. I should be the one to worry about this shit, not him.

He looks at me, then at Fiona, then again at me. “What happened?” He asks shyly, walking a little closer.

Fiona grabs the magazine from my hands and give it to him. I see his blue eyes widen while they scroll on the page. “Shit…” He murmurs.

He looks at me with his brow furrowed, sheepishly. “I’m sorry.” He says, “I shouldn’t have-“

“Shut up, Snow.” I cut him off, because I can’t stand the guilty look on his face. “I was the one who took you there in the first place, it’s my fault.”

Fiona rolls her eyes, catching my attention. “We have to fix this. We have to deny this before the news spread.”

“Does people really care about this? I mean it’s the XXI century, who cares if he’s gay?”

“People care about what the mass medias tell them to care about.” I say, quite coldly. “The problem aren’t people, mainly, but the stakeholders.”

“If they stop supporting Baz, they won’t accept his nomination as the new owner of the company when his father retires.” Fiona adds. “We have to find you an alibi. Like you were elsewhere completely. Traveling, maybe. It was the day I went to LA, wasn’t it? We could say you were with me on the plane.”

“No.”

They both turn to look at me as if I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am.

“What do you mean no?!” Fiona blurs out.

“I mean no, I won’t lie. If we lie and say I’m abso-fucking-lutely straight, when I’ll eventually come out one day it’ll be worst and people will probably start to think that all we say in our magazines is crap. I don’t want that.”

“Then what do you wanna do exactly?”

It takes me less then a second to make up my mind. “Nothing; we won’t say anything about this. We’ll just act like it’s no big deal; we won’t deny nor confirm anything. If we start to riot over this stupid article, they’ll notice we care. If we don’t give them anything, they won’t be able to take us down.”

“What about you father?” Simon asks, looking at me like he’s the biggest asshole in the world. I wanna kiss that expression off his face.

“He already knows I’m gay, even if he pretends I’m not… It’s not like he’ll have a heart attack.” I snort, we’ll be in England in a couple of weeks anyway. I’ll talk directly to him about this when I see him.”

It’s easier to say than it is to actually do it, but I’ll find a way. I always do.

“I’ll take care of the stakeholders, don’t worry.” I tell Fiona, “I don’t wanna drag you down with me.”

She looks at me for a long while, then she sighs, “I hope you know what you’re doing, kiddo.” A second later, she’s out of the office – she makes sure to slam the door again on her way.

Maybe this is what I needed, the push I needed to jump in the void. I want to be free. I want to be free to be myself and I want to be free to hold Simon's hand when we are in public. I'm so fucking tired of hiding. I don't wanna do it anymore. 

“Jesus Christ.” I sigh, letting out the tension. I rub my eyes, trying to clear my head, that is currently spinning at a hundred miles per hour.

“Baz, I… “ Simon says and I hear him get up from the chair. “I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” I repeat, because I don’t know what else to say.

“I can’t be the reason you lose your company.” He whispers, voice shaking. Something breaks inside of me and I rise my face from my hands to look at him.

His lips are slightly parted, like he has to breath deeply and his nose it’s not enough to keep him alive.

“You are _not_.” I say slowly, emphasizing the last word.

SIMON

I won’t ever forgive myself if I ruin Baz’s life.

“You’re not the problem here, Simon. You never will be.” He repeats, walking to me. He stops just a few inches away and he grabs my hands in his, rubbing invisible circles on the back of them. The familiarity of it, the way my body just wants to move closer, is painful.

“But I am the thing keeping you from reaching your goal.” I say and I stare at his tie, because his eyes would be too much right now.

I wonder, _this is it? The end?_

“It’s not like you turned me gay. How could it be your fault?” He points out sarcastically.

“It’s not funny, Baz. I should be the one comforting you right now and look at me, I’m pathetic, I can’t even do that. You’re literally not realizing your dreams because of a fucking terrible boyfriend.”

He makes me rise my chin with his hand and our eyes meet, “You are not pathetic, nor terrible, Simon Snow.”

“Yeah, sure.” I snort.

“You are my boyfriend and I need you to stick with me, even if this whole situation sucks.” He murmurs softly and I know just how much it costs to him to open his heart like that.

“You’d be better off without me.” My voice sounds a little scratched in my ears.

He rolls his eyes, loudly. It’s a statement. “I broke my no-relationship rule for you, now you have to break yours for me: don’t _run_. You said you always used to run when you were little. Don’t do that, not now. Not with _me_. Please.”

“What if you lose the company?” I ask.

“At least, I’d still have you.” He whispers and his eyes are proof that there is nothing but truth in his words. “I believe that it’ll work out in the end, we just have to come up with a good plan.”

I’m not sure I can do this, even if it’s all I want.

I have to do the right thing and step back. Let him go.

“Baz, listen,” I say, “I think you need some time to figure out where do you wanna go, who do you want to become and I don’t think you can do that if I’m always around, pressuring you.”

His hand shakes a little when he cups my cheek and I lean into it, because I’m terribly weak. “You’re not pressuring me into anything. I don’t want time apart. I just want you to deal with my bullshits for a little more time, if you can do that. Can you?”

I nod, unwillingly.

“Please, don’t let me go.” Baz says, voice hoarse. Then his eyes get darker, “At least that’s something you want to do for yourself, I’m not trying to make you feel trapped…”

“I don’t want to let you go, never.” I tell him, placing my hands on his hips. This may be the biggest truth ever escaped from my lips. I can’t make him feel like he’s done something wrong, because that’s not at all what’s happening here.

I don’t feel trapped; I feel safe.

“Then don’t.” He breathes out, slowly, eyes softening.

“I don’t want to make your life harder.”

“Being with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He says, rolling his eyes out of habit, then he grins, “Even if you’re the most annoying human being I’ve ever met.”

“That’s why you like me.” I smile.

“Absolutely.” He murmurs just a heartbeat before kissing me.

He’s kissing me so softly that it’s almost painful. Like he thinks I’m gonna change my mind and push him away; I would never. So I pull him closer to prove my point, wrapping my arms around him.

“Will you stay with me while I try to make things work?” He asks, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I’ll stay with you till the stars go out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the end (but there are still many chapters, though, don't worry!)  
> I think there will be like 50 chapters, but I'm not sure yet. 
> 
> I love Fiona, I bet you couldn't tell. lol
> 
> Take care x


	36. dealing with monsters and blessing kisses

SIMON

It begins as always. The headache, the nightmares, the tiredness yet the insomnia.

I always thought that Baz’s room was somehow relaxing, probably because just the fact that I was sleeping there implied that I was curled up against him and that’s the comfiest thing I can think of.

But tonight, it’s a bad night and so tomorrow will be a bad day. I feel it in the way my bones are fluid and useless. I feel it in the way Mr. Sandman won’t take my body.

I should probably run, run, run. Maybe not disappear in the dark, but at least go home.

 _Home_. It’s a bit weird how I feel home here. It’s not even the house, it’s Baz.

 _Home_. Because with him I feel safe and that’s how you’re supposed to feel when you are home.

I don’t want to stay here and oblige Baz to take care of me, I already caused enough damage with that fucking stupid article with the pic of Broadway. I’ve already messed things up enough; that’s my specialty.

If I think about that night, when we went to the theatre, the butterflies in my belly start to flap around and shakes my organ in a violent dance. That night was absolutely perfect. The lights, the play, the music.

And when got home, we were both so happy and caught up in emotions that we made love all night. That was different from the other times, because Baz held me even closer than usual. He didn’t let go of my body for a single second.

And I remember crystal-clear that I thought, _this is it, that’s how I die_ , because my body was just overwhelmed by sensations and love and it was all too much, but at the same time not enough. But I didn’t die, in fact, that’s the time I felt more alive in my entire life.

If I could, I’d live that day over and over again. I’d live rent free in those memories.

But I can’t, because things started to go wrong after that night.

It’s not like things between me and Baz went wrong (in fact we’ve never been as close as we are these days), more like the things between us and the world.

Now, however, I feel like I’m keeping Baz from achieving his greatness. It’s like I’m forcing him to come out and that’s the last thing I wanna do. I mean, I want him to be free to be himself and love whoever he wants without hiding, but I want him to get there at his own pace. No one should be forced to come out. Never.

So maybe I should go. I tried to tell him today, but he just didn’t let me. He held onto me twice as hard as ever.

His voice echoes overwhelmingly in my head: _don’t run_.

But I gotta do the right thing and set him free.

Don’t run. Don’t run, Simon.

I look down at him and my breath catches. Am I really ready to lose this? Lose him? His hair is sprawled on the pillow and his hand is placed lazily on my belly, exactly where it was when we fell asleep and he was rubbing circles against my hipbone.

I feel the words bubbling in my throat while I look at him, at the way his lips are slightly curved, at his long lashes, at the way his back disappears under the blanket right over his butt. _I love you._

_God, I love you._

I bite them down, adding them to the list of things I can’t think about right now.

I grab the blanket to get it off of my body and go downstairs, but the little voice in my head brings back another memory, one from the Hamptons: _Please, don’t ever leave again when I’m sleeping, it was fucking scary._

I sigh and I rub my eyes. I don’t want to scare him; I couldn’t stand it. I want him to feel as safe as I do when I’m with him.

So, I roll closer to him and I place my face on his pillow, our noses almost touch. His arm wraps automatically around me and the thought makes me want to smile.

“Baz.” I whisper, brushing the top of my nose against his a few times, as gently as I can manage.

After a while he hums and I leave the tiniest kiss on his cheekbone, “I just wanted to tell you I’m going downstairs, okay? Just… so you know where I am and you don’t get worried.” I whisper and then I move back, to let him sleep, but he holds me in place with his arm.

“Stay.” He murmurs softly and pulls me closer to his body. He’s completely pressed against me now and his skin is warm (even if his feet are fucking freezing), it’s almost as a lullaby being held like this.

“I can’t sleep.” I admit, voice as low as his. He takes my hand and guides it to his hair, before entangling our legs. It’s both terrifying and relieving how well he knows me, the fact that he knows that playing with his hair is a thing that relaxes me to the core.

His eyelids are still closed when he starts rubbing his hands on my back. “What’s wrong?”

I feel like an asshole saying this now, when he’s more asleep than awake, but the words are out before I can stop them, “I think I have to let you go.”

His eyes open wide in a heartbeat, his hands stop abruptly. “Is it about work?”

“No. Yes.” I sigh. “I feel like I’m keeping you from success or something.”

“The only thing you’re keeping me from is loneliness.” He says, after a while. His eyes chained to mine.

I bite the inside of my cheek. I feel the tears rising in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

“Simon,” he sighs, “Are you unhappy with me?”

“What.” I crack out. “I’ve never been happier than I do when I’m with you.”

“Okay, then why do you keep trying to break up with me?”

“Because I’m useless and you are you. You are fucking perfect. You are trying to fly and I’m weighing you down.” I tell him, after looking for the right words.

He rolls his eyes, then he flips us around, getting on top of me. “I want to come out. Publicly.”

“But I-“

“Let me finish.” He snorts, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I wanna come out and I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do it without you; you’re always so brave, that you make me want to be too.”

“I don’t want to be oblige you to come out. I don’t want to oblige you or something.”

“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me. I want to be myself everywhere, not just at home. I want to be able to go to work with my floral suits and not being judged because they are not masculine enough; I want to stop going on public dates with young ladies just to make the press – and my father – happy. I want to be able to hold your hand when we walk down the street. I want… I don’t know, I just want to be happy, I guess. I’m tired to hide and pretend. I want more than what I’ve had till now.”

A tear rolls down his cheek and I wipe it away with my thumb.

I'd give him all that I am.  
I'd give him all that I was.  
I'd open up a vein.  
I'd tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.

“I’m in love with you.” I murmur, my voice breaks a little and I pull him down, to lay completely on my body. I can’t stand being even an inch away from him.

Something happens in his eyes, but I’m not sure what. I’m not sure about anything anymore. The only thing I know is that Baz Pitch is the best soul I’ve ever had the luck to meet and I'd burn in hell before I let the someone hurt him again.

“Then please don’t leave me, I’m tired of feeling alone.” He whispers against my lips.

“I won’t.” I try to say, but I’m already kissing him and I’m not sure the words actually escapes my mouth in time to be heard.

The kiss is desperate; we are just two souls trying to become one.

“I wanna make love to you, Baz.” I say in his ear, before biting his earlobe. “And make you forget about everything. I want you to be able to remember only my name.”

He moans loudly, already falling apart under my touch and I feel his hand wraps around _me_ in despair.

BAZ

We’re on the floor when the sun begins to enter from the window and hits Simon’s golden curls. None of us manages to sleep in the end, but just because we were busy otherwise. I grab the blanket from the bed and I slides it on top of Simon (who’s on top of me).

“How do you feel?” I ask, running my hand through his hair.

He hums, face pressed on my chest. “Knackered.”

“Besides that.” I scoff a laugh, running my finger over the knuckles of his spine.

“I thought it was gonna be a bad day, but I don’t feel like that anymore… I don’t know, it’s weird. I feel just a little tired. But happy.” He admits and my heart flutters.

I’m glad he woke me up instead of just dealing with his monsters by himself. Progress, growth.

He said he’s _in love_ with _me_ and I can’t stop smiling. I think I’m falling apart, or maybe these are just how the pieces finally sticking together feel like.

“You wanna stay home today? I could talk _with_ your boss and give you a day off. He's very generous I've heard.”

“No, I have that reportage to work on with Ebb today and, besides, I don’t want to stay here and be useless.”

“Okay.” I say, simply, because I’m the first one who dives in work whenever I can, so I can’t really talk.

He kisses my nipple, sweetly. “Did you start plotting yet? About how you want to come out.”

“Not yet, I have to talk with Fiona first and then with my dad. I want them to know what I plan to do… I’ll test the ground when we go to England and then I’ll decide. I’m sure I can find alleys in the company, if I look closer.”

“Do you still want me to come to England? It’s probably easier to talk with your family if I’m not there.”

“I want you to come more than ever. Daphne will love you, I’m pretty sure. She’ll be on our side against my father… Besides, we promised Dev and Niall to spend some time with them, so…”

He rises his head and kisses me, gently, wholly. It almost feels like a blessing.

“I was thinking about what you said about your floral suits… I think our article about your style could help you that, on sending a strong message. It was about you anyways, so it might as well be about the real you. You don’t have to, obviously. I’m just saying that Penny and I can help, if you want us to. Well, Penny. I’d just take the pics.” He shrugs.

It isn’t a bad idea, after all. We have to start somewhere, so why not there. “Seems like we’ll have to take more photoshoot, then.”

“And where is the problem in that?” He laughs and messes up my hair with his fingers (even if it was probably already a mess after tonight).

I bite his bottom lip gently, pulling it back a little. “We’ll make a revolution.”

“I’ll be right beside you. I’d follow you to the end of the world.” He replies, majestically.

I love you. I think, but I’m not just ready yet. I’m not that brave yet.

“We’ll make a revolution and win. That’s a promise.” I say and I take him by the back of his neck, lips colliding together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing a Pynch fic, if you want to give it a try! It's about healing. Read The Raven Cycle, if you haven't yet. It has one of the most beautiful found family ever. 
> 
> Does someone has some book recs?  
> I'm a sucker for fantasy novels and during the holidays I always read a lot. I'm currently reading Six of Crows and the next on my list is The Lightning-Struck Heart. 
> 
> Take care x


	37. Plane Flight and One Day

BAZ

Snow looks like a baby when we get in my private plane, he’s all “oooh!” and “aaah!” about everything; it would be annoying if he wasn’t so damn cute.

He’s sitting in front of me when we take off, but he’s so damn busy staring out of the window with his eyes incredibly wide to notice that I’m staring at him with an amused look. “It almost looks like you never took a plane before.” I tell him, when we can finally take off our belts and the ground is enough far away.

“I just took it once before, when we came to America. It’s very cool, isn’t it? Everything looks so tiny and beautiful. Let me enjoy it while we aren’t on the ocean; then it’s just… blue.” He shrugs, still looking outside. “God, I wish I had wings and I could do this every day.”

It’s not like I’m complaining about having an excuse to stare at him without him noticing. Not really.

His hair is gotten longer and the freckles on his nose are a little less marked, as he hasn’t gotten much sun lately (fucking winter weather); he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“What’s the plan once we get there?” He asks, lips slightly parted; mouth breather.

“Sleep.” I reply, “Sleep and eat and take off your clothes and sleep some more once you’re well laid.” I tell him and I smirk when he almost chokes. He finally - finally - looks at me with that dumb smile that is probably supposed to be an evil grin but is just really adorable.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” He says, biting his lip. After a second, he adds, “But I was talking about your family.”

“Oh, that.” I roll my eyes, “You kill all the fun.”

“I’m not saying no to kiss the fuck out of you.” He mumbles, a little embarrassed. “I just… want to know how to behave when we get to your family house.”

“You can kiss the fuck out of me in front of them for all I care.” I shrug, but we both know it’s a lie and he has the decency to not point it out. And as he keeps staring at me, I add, “I don’t know. Just… be you and it will be fine.”

“Will it be?” He sighs, “What if they don’t like me?”

“Look, you already know Mordelia and she loves you, she’ll be there and help us out. After that, you just have to be yourself and I’m sure Daphne will fall in love with you just as much as-“ me, “-Delia.”

“Yeah and then your dad.”

“And then my dad.” I agree with a sigh. He gets up from his seat and come to sit on my lap, running his hand through my hair, his brow lightly furrowed.

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” He asks, “I really don’t want to force you or anything and-”

“Shut up, Snow.” I roll my eyes, pressing my forehead against his cheek, “As long as you’re okay with it, I am too. I don’t want to do this anymore, hide and pretend. Fuck it.”

“Okay.” He murmurs softly and then he cups my face and kisses me. He kisses me with all he has, with every single atom of his body. "I mean, of course I'm okay with coming out to the world as your boyfriend, because all the people I love already knows, so it's not really a big deal for me. I don't care about what the world thinks, I just care about my family..."

"Sometimes I wish I could be like you." I say. Brave and generous and loyal, just like you. I don't explain what I mean and he doesn't ask, just looks at me with his brow furrowed. "It's all going to change once I do this, isn't it?" 

"Yes." He nods, sincerely. "But you'll be free and you'll still be loved." 

_Free. Loved_.

"Okay." I whisper, "Okay." Because that's enough.

That's enough for me, but I wonder if that would be enough for my mother too. For my father, my family. 

“I have work to do before we get there.” I tell him, “I still have to finish reading some papers.”

“Baz.” He says, running his lips on my neck.

“What?”

“Will someone come in this room? For the next, I don’t know, hour?” He asks sheepishly and shook of goosebumps roll down my back in anticipation.

“Not unless I call them, no.” I say, rubbing the back of his neck with my thumbs. Then, just because I love when he flushes, “Why?” I grin.

“Just checking.” He says with a smile, cheeks turning red, before sliding off my lap and kneeling in front of me. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize your staff.”

“That would be very, ah! Bad, yes.” I breath out shakily, sliding my fingers in his hair when he mouths me through the fabric of my trousers.

“It occurred to me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever have another chance to blow you over the Atlantic Ocean… Don’t want to waste a chance.” He says, unbuckling my belt. “What do you think?”

“I think that we’ll live rent free on this plane, if that’s what it makes to you.” I groan, pulling his hair back a little.

He laughs – and I mean that he laughs - right against my cock, his hot breath makes me want more more more. “Not a bad idea. Just me and you and the blue sky. I could live with that.” He says, leaving a wet kiss on my inner thigh.

And fuck my life.

I raise my hips a little to help him take off my trousers and briefs and here I am, naked and already half hard (because I have no shame when it comes to Simon Snow), with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met looking at me like he wants to eat me.

He trails kisses on my hipbones, on my belly, on my thighs; everywhere but not where I want him to. “Holy shit, Snow. Just fucking do it already.” I groan, desperate and I move my hips toward him.

“So eager. And bossy.” He smiles wickedly, “Let me take my time and enjoy taking you apart very,” bite on the thigh, “very,” kiss on the hipbone, “very slowly.” Smile even brighter, eyes in mine. “Will you?”

I groan again, louder. “No.” I’m completely hard now, because _fuck_. This man.

He laughs again and rises his head to kiss me on the mouth, I bite his bottom lip in revenge, in the way I know he loves, and he moans lightly. I feel drunk.

“I hate you.” I complain, when he goes down, down, down brushing his lips all over my body.

“Do you?” he whispers against my skin.

“Yes, very-“ and that’s when I stop forming coherent thoughts because he finally takes me in his mouth. He covers my mouth with his hand to keep me quiet and I lose myself in Simon Snow.

SIMON

Baz is a mumbling mess when I’m done with him and I couldn’t be prouder of myself. _I did this_.

I help him take up his clothes, even if he doesn’t do much but raise his hips and I sit next to him, my chin on his shoulder. I brush my nose against his cheek, his eyes are half closed, but there is a smile on his lips. Post-orgasm Baz is the most beautiful and wild Baz.

It hits me like a lightning bolt, _I’m so in love with you_. But I hide it somewhere deep inside of me. Not now, not yet.

“That was… ah.” He mumbles, leaving a kiss on my forehead. My heart does something funny in my chest at that gesture.

“I know, I’m very talented.” I shrug sarcastically and he laughs.

“Want me to return the favour?” He asks, hand sliding on my thigh.

I intertwine my fingers with his, offering him a little smile. “No, I didn’t do it for that.”

“For what, then?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“Because I wanted to take that CEO-look off your face. And you were overthinking it.” I tell him, honestly, and he rolls his eyes.

“You are a menace.” He sighs, dramatically. Then he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and says, “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I am too.” I kiss his cheek, “That’s definitely more fun than a regular office day.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m proud of what you want to do, tell your family and everything. I hope you know I am. Very, very proud.” I mutter and he pulls me closer to his body, because maybe I said something right. I hope I did.

I want to make him feel safe, just as he does with me.

“Thank you, love.” He murmurs in my hair.

-

We arrive in England some hours later; we spent the flight pressed together from shoulders to calves, but we didn’t talk much – besides during dinner – because Baz had work to do, so we just silently kept each other company. It was nice and I’m really happy when we land, even if I’m also very tired.

There is a black car waiting for us right outside the plane and we go directly to Fiona’s place (she’s in New York, at the moment), a giant attic in the City. It’s really not how imagined it, though: it has way more vinyl records and paintings on the walls.

So Fiona really has a goth side, Penny and I were always right about that.

I land on the black couch with a yawn, without even taking off my jacket. “This place is dope.”

“I lived here with Fiona when I was in college.” He says, but he doesn’t sit next to me, instead he offers me his hand. “My room is just there; I won’t carry you to my bed if you fall asleep on the couch.” He warns me (even if I’m sure he would totally do that)(but I take his hand nonetheless).

Baz’s room is a little copy of his New York’s bedroom just a little emptier, has many of his stuffs aren’t here anymore. The sheets still smell like him, though, when I sink my face in the pillow.

Baz is looking at the ceiling, his fingers are rubbing circles on the back of my hand, but I’m not sure he’s aware of it. “Hey.” I say, moving closer and pressing my body against his.

“Hey.” He repeats, wrapping his arms around me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just…” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “A little anxious about tomorrow, I guess.”

“It’s going to be okay.” I tell him, placing a kiss on his chest. We’re both just laying under the blankets in our boxers, because we were too tired to actually wear our pyjamas (not that I’m complaining)(more visible Baz’s skin is always better).

“How would you know?”

“I know because we’re going to be together and that’s enough.” I murmur, because it’s just as simple as that.

“Will you? Still be there for me if everything goes to hell?” He asks, looking at me with serious eyes, studying my face.

“Always.” I nod and I lean closer to kiss him, just a light brush of lips, a caress of reassurance.

Maybe I should tell him. Tell him that I am completely and unequivocally in love with him.

Tell him that I love him.

Because I do. I love him with every fiber of my essence.

But just… not now, not yet.

One day, soon.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but it just because I needed to connect what happens in England.   
> Also, sorry to say, I wanted to give them some fluff before things get messy for a while. Ugh.
> 
> But we believe in happy endings, don't we?
> 
> Take care x  
> (p.s. I hope you have amazing holidays!)


	38. Lovely truths and standing up

SIMON

It was a happy surprise to find Ebb at the London’s office and it somehow calmed me down, even though I’ve been freaking out all morning.

Baz woke up at sunrise (which per se is terrifying) and got all dressed up (I mean, even more than usual. He always wears those posh suits, but today he’s completely CEO-mode on), he was so tense that I was worried he was gonna hurt his back. He didn’t let me touch him, besides a distracted kiss before we got out of the attic (which is absolutely stupid, because the only thing I could do right now is take away his anxiety with hands and kisses, so…)(but who am I to judge; if space is what he needs, that’s what I’ll offer).

The fact is that I’ve never seen Baz this anxious, as he’s usually so chill about everything, so seeing him like this – ready to explode and burn down the whole city – made me freak out.

We got to the office together, not really holding hands or anything (he barely looked at me, to say it all), and he’s been in his father’s office for a few hours now. I’ve been waiting outside, not really knowing what to do, so I already drank seven coffee; luckily for me, at some point I found Ebb.

She’s in London for a reportage about the Moore and I’m so thankful for that. To see a friendly face. To see a _friend_.

God, I hope Baz is well in there. Anxiety is eating me alive.

“You are more distracted than usual, kid.” Ebb laughs, shaking her hand in front of my face. “Are you alright?”

“Mmh? Yeah - yeah, sure. Sorry.” I mumble, eyeing the door of Mr. Grimm’s office.

“What’s the deal?” She asks, looking at me with kind eyes.

“It’s nothing, I’m just… here as Baz’s personal assistant. I mean, uhm, Mr. Pitch’s.” I say, shaking my head. How I hate to lie, I wish I never have to do that; but I’ll still do it for Baz.

“Oh, drop it, kid. I know I’m not that much at New York’s office, but I have eyes. I’ve seen how you two look at each other.”

I look at her sheepishly, and she offers me a tiny smile. “What? I’m not judging. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy. Does he? Make you happy, I mean.”

“Yes, very much.” I nod, without any doubt.

“Then you should just be.” She shrugs, she’s wearing one of those looks of someone who knows a lot about the world.

“It’s not-“ I mutter, but a low voice cuts me off.

“Simon Snow.”

I freeze, looking at the door, where Malcolm Grimm is actually standing in a very frightening position. I do have to remind myself that he’s my boss and Baz’s dad, that I can’t let my temper takes over me… but thinking of what’s coming doesn’t make it easy.

“Yes, sir?”

“In my office.” He says, coldly, no expressions on his face. I get in after him and I close the door; when I turn, I see Baz standing at the desk, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

I wish I could take away all the shit they are throwing at him.

There is a woman on her 40s standing behind Mr. Grimm’s chair, she offers me a tiny smile and a nod when I meet her eyes. I don’t know why, but I decide that I like her. I wonder what she’s doing here, if she’s his personal assistant.

I sit on the chair next to Baz, I’m not really sure what to do or say, I just know that I want Baz to meet my eyes, to know he is okay, something. _Anything_.

He doesn’t, though. He runs his fingers through his hair and pull it back a little.

The room is quiet for a while, nobody moves or says anything; I feel Mr. Grimm’s eyes burning holes in my head with an intense ferocity, even if his face is a blank mask.

When Malcolm clears his throat, Baz’s knee brushes against mine and I’m finally able to breath. He’s okay. We’re going to be okay.

“So, you are the one who’s trying to ruin my company.” Mr. Grimm says, voice low and firm.

Shivers go down my spine, “I’m not trying to ruin anything.” I snap back.

“Really? That’s what you’re deciding to go with?” Baz snorts, lifting his head from his hands and shooting his father an angry glance. “Have you listened to anything of what I said for the last two hours?”

“I did.” He replies, not even flinching. “But as I’ve told you I spent more time doing this work than you and I know how the world goes. If this gets out of this room, you’ll be ruined.”

“And if your stupid-ass stakeholders fire me, it will be your company to be ruined.” Baz says, “It’s not a threat, it’s a fact. Fiona won’t stick with your bullshits if I’m gone and we are the only two of the family who could take over you. You don’t want to give the company to some stranger. These are the only two choices you have: trust me or lose your company.”

“You are tarnishing your mother’s memory.”

The woman’s hand slides on Mr. Grimm’s shoulder and squeezes it, almost in warning.

“Doing what?” Baz says, getting up in a rush. He leans on his hands on the desk, challenging his father. “By being _gay_?” He says it like it’s venom, “Or by standing up for myself?”

Malcolm’s eyes flinches, like Baz just slapped him. “I wish to speak to Mr. Snow alone.”

“You mean you wish to scare him off. I won’t leave.” Baz shakes his head. I can’t see his face, but his tense shoulders are enough to make me worry.

“You’re being irrational, Basilton.”

Baz groans and that’s when I finally decide to speak up. “Okay.”

They all stare at me and I feel panic rise in my stomach, but I try to ignore it at my best.

“Snow…” Baz sighs, in desperation.

“I’ll talk to him alone, it’s not a problem.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “Go drink something warm, you’ve been in here for hours.”

It takes a few minutes to convince him, but at least he leaves and so does the woman. When he walks past me, he brushes his hand against mine. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

I nod and I straighten my back as soon as we’re alone. We just look at each other for a bunch of seconds and I wonder what he sees; I see an angry man, but also someone with very troubled eyes. I don’t think he’s a bad person, after all. I jus think he doesn’t know how to take care of his son.

“Baz is not doing it to hurt you, he just wants to be free.” I tell him, honestly. I don’t think my words reach him, though.

“You can drop the act now.” He says, blinking absently. “How much do you want?”

“How much do I want what?”

“Money. To leave in silence.”

I almost choke. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m asking your price and I won’t ask again, Mr. Snow. You better answer now.”

“Why would I want your money?” I ask, confused.

“Because I know people like you. You got in your boss’ bed, good work. You’ve been promoted, you’ve made it far. Now I’m asking your price to leave.”

I feel the anger burn deep under my skin, I close my hands in fists at my sides. “If you really knew people like me, you’d know that I actually don’t really care about money.”

“No?” He snorts sarcastically, “You mean to tell me you’re not an _orphan_ boy who dreamed to be rich? And have everything he didn’t have when he was little? Your story says the contrary of what you’re saying.”

My jaw drops in surprise at his words. “How do you know my past?”

“You work for me. I got all the information I needed the first time I saw you in my son’s office in New York.” He replies, still cold as a stone. “Baz is the investment I made for this company and I protect my investments.”

“He’s not a business tool. He’s your son, he’s a person.” I growl, squeezing my jaw to stop all the insults rising in my throat, trying to get out of my mouth.

“I want you to leave. You’ll still have a work here, if you keep this story private and leave Basilton. I don’t know what sort of spell you put him under, but he doesn’t need you; what he needs is his company, for which he worked for all his life.”

I get up. I can’t take it anymore. “You know what that orphan boy really wanted? Someone who loved him. And now I do, I have Baz. And _I love him_ , I won’t let you hurt him anymore. I will fight with him this battle, because I believe that he deserves to win it.”

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, “And I also want to give you an advice: you’re losing him and you’re losing Mordelia. I heard their stories, I heard what they think. They love you, you are their dad, but they won’t take your bullshits anymore. Now you have to decide if you care more about work or about your family. Baz will fight and fucking win this revolution, all you gotta decide is whether you want to help him out or be against him. As his dad, you shouldn’t even think about it. I may not know anything about families, but I know _love_. Love isn’t whatever you’re doing, love is supporting him even if you don’t agree with him.”

I grab my jacket from the chair and I turn to leave, “If you want to fire me, do it. I don’t care. Either way, I guess I’ll see you soon. Good day, sir.”

I shut the door behind me before he can say anything. I feel the anger bubbles in me, but when I see Baz across the room, holding his head in his hands, I feel like I’m about to explode. There is a pain in my chest that I can’t ignore.

All the eyes in the office are staring at me (what a good idea slamming the door, Simon. Now you have their attention), but I don’t give a single fuck. All I can think about is Baz. Reaching him and holding him; I can’t do the second thing yet – here, so I just walk to him and kneel in front of him.

“Baz.” I murmur, touching his wrist.

He lifts his head and stares at me, “What did he say?”

“Nothing that mattered.” I shrug, “Are you okay?”

He sighs and he gets up, “Yeah, let’s go home.” He doesn’t grab my hand, even if I notice his indecision on what to do. When we reach the elevator, we hear heels knocking against the marble floor.

“Basil, wait.” A voice says and we turn around.

“I just want to go home, now, really.” Baz says to the woman who was standing in Malcom’s office, voice light as a feather.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go well, he just needs some time. I’ll talk to him tonight… Maybe you two should come to dinner.” She says, offering a tiny reassuring smile.

“I reached my daily dose of time with him for today, that’s not a good idea, unless you want us to yell in front of the family.”

She sighs, then turns to me (I probably look a bit confused by this whole conversation)(Dinner? Family?). “I’m Daphne Grimm.” She says, offering her hand.

Oh, Baz’s stepmother. “Oh, Simon Snow.”

“I know, my daughter always speaks about you.” She smiles and I notice just how beautiful she is.

“Tell Mordelia I say hi.” I reply, I don’t want to be rude, but I just want to bring Baz away from this place.

“Convince Baz to come home and you’ll tell her yourself.” She says with a light shrug, before dismissing herself and disappearing in the office again.

Yes, I think I like her

-

“Just tell me the truth, I can bear it.” Baz says, for the fourth time. We’re laying on the couch, his hand is on my lap and I’m running my fingers through his hair to try and calm him. “I’m sick of people lying.”

That hits me right in the guts. “Fine,” I give up, I didn’t want to tell him, but he’s giving me no choice. “He wanted to pay me to go away and break up with you.”

His eyes snap open. “Fucking asshole. Of course, I have one good thing and he has to try and take it away. Fucking bastard.” He shouts, sitting. After a while, he turns to look at me. “What did you say?”

I roll by eyes and I snort, “Fuck you, Baz. What do you think I said?”

That’s when it hits me that I told him that I _love_ Baz. I told his father before I told anyone else. Before I told Baz. I’m a fucking terrible boyfriend. Who does that?

The first time I say the words, I admit my feelings, and I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined it, because that’s what I do.

“Oh, _fuck_.” I mutter to myself.

“What.” He says, flatly.

“Nothing.” I snap back, looking away.

BAZ

Terror is clenching my organs at Simon’s sheepish look. I can already feel everything falling apart, but I have to know. I need to know.

Air is stolen from my lungs, as I get up to look at him. “Tell me.” I order. I’m surprised I’m still able to speak at all.

Did I really lose my family and my boyfriend the same day? Not just my boyfriend. Simon. _Boyfriend_ is not a strong enough word for what I feel for him.

“I… think – I think I ruined everything.” He mutters, getting up to stand in front of me. He tries to grab my hand but I move back. He looks hurt at that, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just let his hand falls to his side.

“With me?” I ask, squeezing my jaw.

“Yes,” He nods, then he shakes his head, eyes widening, “I mean, no. No, no. Baz…”

The way my name sounds on my lips wrecks me. “If this is you breaking up with me, just fucking do it, Snow.”

He steps back like I just punched him, and he whispers, “I’m not trying to break up with you. Fuck, Baz, no. How could you think something like that? It’s just… I said something. But I didn’t say it like I wanted to.”

“What did you say?” I breath out, feeling a little relived. What a fucking horrible day. But at least he isn’t breaking up with me.

He looks away, sheepishly.

“Snow, please. Just tell me, you’re fucking scaring me.”

“I love you!” He blurs out, then he covers his mouth with his hand, looking at me in shock. Pretty much as I’m looking at him.

Did he just…? Did he say it?

He did.

I definitely heard it.

Simon Snow loves me. He loves me.

 _He_ loves _me_.

My body can’t quiet contain the joy and I end up laughing. I laugh and I feel my soul getting lighter and lighter, so light that it could fly away. I feel the pain of today lift from my body and my bones stop cracking under it.

“Why are you laughing.” He mutters flatly, after a bunch of seconds. When I look at him, his cheeks are bright red and he’s looking everywhere but at me.

I walk to him, still smiling, and I cup his cheeks with my hands, brushing the top of my nose against his.

“I’m sorry, I am a terrible boyfriend; this was the worst love declaration ever. I just… It slipped out.” He murmurs, pouting a little. His eyes are digging in my soul.

“If it’s true, then I don’t care about anything else.” I say, blushing a little.

“I love you.” He says again, more firmly this time and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, pressing his body against mine.

“Did you tell my father? That’s what worried you?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow, even if I can’t stop smiling, not really.

“Yes. I may have panicked. He kept saying things and I just wanted to make him understand that I don’t care about his money.” He mumbles, slightly embarrassed and I laugh again.

I rub my thumb over his cheekbone, “Can you say it just one more time?” I murmur, softly, right over his lips.

I want to say it back, I want to hear it again and I want to say it back.

“I love you, Mr. Pitch.” He smiles wickedly, “And now I’m going to kiss you and you’re going to take me to your bed and take off our clothes.”

“And then what?” I say, wetting my lips. 

“And then I’ll make love to you. Till morning. Till you can’t take it anymore. Till you know nothing but my name.” He says, biting my earlobe teasingly. “Because I love you.” He murmurs in my ear, like a secret.

I hide my face in the crook of his neck. “Simon…” I whisper.

“Yes?” He murmurs in my hair.

“I love you.” I say, face pressed against his warm skin, “And it’s absolutely terrifying.”

The words are out, just like that. It’s easier to tell him, without looking at him. Without his beautiful eyes digging in my soul.

However, now that I’ve said them, I’m not sure I will actually be able to stop myself from saying them over and over again.

“I know,” he whispers, I feel the smile in his words, “We’re going to be okay.”

I lift him from the floor and I take him to my room, his laugh echoing in my ear is all I need to be sure that yes, we’re going to be okay.

Because Simon Snow loves me.

And I love Simon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT QUESTION  
> I was thinking that it would be cute if I wrote a short fic (not a one-shot, but not even as long as this one) about Nev and Niall in this AU. Would you be in to that? About how they got together after Baz left, leading to when they coe visit him in New York. I'd write it after finishing this one.  
> It basically would be lawyer!Dev and footballer!Niall.  
> Let me know! Here or on tumblr @lovi-ngbooks
> 
> Take care x


	39. Plan, coffee and family business

BAZ

“Baz, wake up! It’s not the right time to sleep till midday.” A voice that annoyingly sounds like Mordelia’s says. I groan and I press my body more tightly against Simon’s.

“Please tell me I’m having a nightmare and there is not a pale annoying human in my bedroom,” I groan, “Well, besides you, Snow.”

“Actually, Baz, there are three of them. And they are all staring at us. And we are both very naked.” Simon says from beside me and I pop open my eyes.

In fact, there are the three worst human beings in the world standing in my bedroom. Mordelia, Dev and Niall are all staring at us from the door. Mordelia is covering her eyes with her hands, Niall is giving me thumbs up and Dev elbows his side.

“Stop staring, your boyfriend is right here.” He snorts to Niall.

“I was just being a supportive friend.” Niall laughs.

That’s when I realize that yes, Simon and I are very naked. Luckily, Simon is quicker than me to react and covers us with the sheets.

“What are you doing in my room?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. I won’t even try to deny that I’m very pissed off by the fact that everyone has just seen Simon naked. That’s a Baz’s only thing.

“We have coffee and a plan.” Dev says, imperiously.

“Get dressed, we have tons of things to do.” Mordelia says and they all get out, closing the door. “And don’t make out or anything, seriously. I’ll kick down the door _and_ drink your coffee in revenge.”

“God, I missed your sister.” Simon laughs.

“Did they just storm into my flat?”

“Technically, it’s Fiona’s, but yes.” He says and turns to his side to face me. “And you also got your sex hair on. They definitely noticed that.”

“Don’t care.” I groan and I press myself against him, mouths colliding together.

We’ve slept like four hours, because Simon Snow always keeps his promises and he promised to make love to me till morning.

It’s been one of the most beautiful nights of my life. If not the best one.

The _words_ just kept coming and coming, after every moan, every kiss, every touch: _I love you._

“We have to go or she’ll really kick off the door.” I roll my eyes, but I get up anyway (even if it’s really a shame to leave Simon’s warm body).

“You go, I sleep.” He mumbles, “I’m totally knackered, I need at least six months to recharge after tonight.”

That steals a laugh from me, “Too bad, I wanted to do round two today.” I sigh, dramatically.

“That sounds more like round ninth or so.” He replies, smiling satisfied.

“Get up, or I’ll have to call them to deal with your naked ass to get ready.” I tell him, throwing him a shirt.

“I thought my naked ass was a Baz Pitch’s only business.” He smiles and it’s beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

“Exactly, so get up and get dressed, so I don’t have to murder anyone for touching what’s mine.” I say, then I lean to him and I kiss his forehead.

The Menace wraps his arms around me and pulls me down on the bed, “You are very hot when you are jealous.” He murmurs against my cheek.

I shoot him a glance, “I’m not jealous.”

“You are, because you love me.” He smiles; he says it like a fact, because that’s what it is (not that I’m jealous)(that I love him).

“And why is that again?” I sigh sarcastically and snorts, but then he’s kissing me. “I do love you.” I say, between kisses and caresses, a little out of breath.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch! Simon Snow!” Mordelia shouts from the other side of the door, “Move your lazy asses!”

“Oh-oh, we are in trouble when she goes full name.” I sigh and Simon laughs.

We sit on the black couch a while later, clothed but still with sex hair and red lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask sarcastically, cocking an eyebrow at them, but I’m really very happy to see them, I really fucking missed them.

“Vanilla latte, yay!” Simon exclaims, taking a sip from one of the paper cups on the coffee table. “Mordelia you’re the best.”

Delia just grins at him, before punching me on the arm. “What the hell was that for?!”

“You said you’d call me before talking to dad.” She rolls her eyes and punches me again.

“Stop that!” I groan, “Besides, there was already Daphne there, I didn’t want to have a family reunion or something.”

“Too bad, because I have a plan and you almost messed it up. Luckily, as you said, Daphne was there.” She says.

“You have a what?”

“A plan, Bazzie.” Dev repeats and I look at him with my brow furrowed. He’s sitting on the armchair and Niall sitting on the floor between his legs. I’m still not used to seeing them like that, but it’s a thing that genuinely makes me happy (especially since after they told me the truth, everything between us got better and now we are talking to each other every day like we did before I moved to New York).

“What do you mean?”

“It means, bro,” Niall says, with a shrug, “that we are in this together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you told us about wanting to come out publicly, we started planning this out. You decided that like at mid-January, almost a month ago, so we had quite some time. I made some researches; you’ll recall I’m a very good lawyer.” Dev says, with a not-so-modest shrug. “And whilst I did that, Mordelia figures which stakeholders would support you and which wouldn’t, with Daphne’s help. In fact, they aren’t all shitheads. Did you know that Mr. Brown founded an association with his wife that offers help to queer teens?”

I am quite at loss for words.

“Dev’s mom, mom and I will take care of dad, you also have the twins’ support.” Delia nods.

“Besides, there are laws that protect your interests. They can’t fire you because of your sexual orientation, it’s illegal. They would have to find something against you and seen that you are Baz, I guess they wouldn’t find anything. Not in time to stop you from taking after your father, anyway. I’ll take care of the bureaucracy and the laws, with Matt help.”

“God, I love when you go all lawyer.” Niall says, turning to him and Dev smiles to him in a way that make me question how the fuck did I never notice there were feeling between them.

Simon squeezes my hand and I realize that they’re waiting for me to say something. I’m staring at them with my jaw dropped and I know I should reply, but I’m speechless.

“We were just trying to help.” Mordelia murmurs, brow furrowed.

“You did all _that_ … for me?” I mumble.

“We did.”

“You are our brother; we won’t just stay there and watch if someone throw shit at you.” Niall shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just let us help you.” Mordelia says, pocking my hip.

“We have to be careful and play our cards well, though. It won’t be easy, but we’ll make it work.” Dev says.

I honestly feel a little overwhelmed, all kind of feelings are sparkling in my chest.

“You really want to deal with all this shit?” I ask, brow furrowed.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Niall nods and a moment later, I’m not sure how, I find myself pressed in a group hug.

We listen carefully to Dev, who explain us all the technicalities of the plan, then to Mordelia, who just like to be a little bossy about how she’ll convince dad to support us.

“No, I think she’s right. I think your father will help you out in the end… You didn’t see his expression when I left, yesterday. I think he’s just scared for you. Hopefully, he’ll do the right thing.” Simon tells me, squeezing my hand in reassurance.

“This could actually work…” I admit, surprised, looking at Dev. “You did really think about anything.”

“I told you, we had time.” He shrugs, “Besides, I always enjoyed dealing with your dramas.”

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, but I grin, nonetheless.

“The first step is Friday’s gala, then. You’ll have to show up, they’ll let you in even if you weren’t officially invited, as everyone knows who you are; they won’t even ask for your invitation.” Mordelia says, then she adds, brow slightly furrowed, “…probably.”

“Probably?” I roll my eyes. “Everybody in this damn city knows who Baz Pitch is.”

Which, okay, might sound a little presumptuous, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“That’s exactly what we are counting on. There will be paparazzi and important people. Everybody will see you and Simon and nobody will be able to ignore it.” Dev says, nodding.

I feel the tension and the adrenaline running through my veins: finally! Finally, I’ll stand up for myself. My life will be my own. It’ll never be someone else’s idea ever again.

I am free;

Snow is sitting still, beside me, rubbing circles on the back of my hand and listening to everything with impeccable attention, not skipping a beat. I love him even more, for how much he cares about this, about _me_.

I have the urge to tell him, but I’ll have to wait until we’re alone.

“Will you guys be there?” Simon asks, looking at them.

“At the gala?”

“Yes.” Simon nods.

“Dev and I will, yes.” Mordelia nods.

“I have a football match that night, I won’t make it.” Niall says, pouting a little. Niall might be a tough guy on the outside, with his shaved hair and tattoos, but he’s just really a cinnamon roll. I’m sorry that we won’t go to his match, it’s been a while since I last saw him play (since I moved to New York)…

“But you two will have to arrive _alone_. If we get there in four, there’s a chance they won’t notice you two holding hands or stuff.” Mordelia shrugs, “So we’ll see you there.”

“When you get there, you’ll have to take pics, probably answer some questions. Once inside, you’ll have to speak to all the list of stakeholders and possible supporters of your cause, we’ve already written it, you’ll just have to go and talk to them.”

“And say what?” I snort.

“Just be nice, be yourself.”

“Which one? I can’t do both.”

Dev rolls his eyes, “Just use your fucking charm, asshole. We all know you can do that. And introduce Simon, preferably as your boyfriend, not your personal assistant.”

Simon scoffs a laugh, “Yeah, better omit that bit; it didn’t really impress your father. He basically said I was a bitch. You can just say I’m a photographer, if they ask.”

It’s my turn to squeeze his hand.

“You better wear your best suit, you’ll have to be absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, that’s part of the second half of the plan.” Niall says, proud. “That was my idea.”

“Why? What happens next?” I ask. I really don’t want to make this more dramatic than it already is, but I have to know every detail, I have too much to lose.

“There was a guy on my team who some years ago came out as gay and they wanted to kick him out of the team. They couldn’t, though, because he had a very huge support of fans, who embraced his story – kicking him out would’ve meant losing the fans support and the team would’ve been ruined.” He tells us, “So that’s what you need: fans supporting you. What better way to gain fans if not by being absolutely hot?”

“You two will be the cutest couple on the news.” Mordelia agrees, “People won’t ignore that. All they care about is gossip. Gossip and beauty. You can give them both.”

“That’s both terrifying and cool.” Simon says, impressed. “Are we sure this will work?”

“It will.” The three of them says in unison.

And it’s almost enough to give me all the confidence I needed.

SIMON

When we lay in bed that night, we’re both tired as hell. We spent all day plotting and planning, they showed us all the stakeholders and eventual supporters we need to talk to at the gala, we decided what to say when the journalists will ask us questions. We’re ready. Kind of.

We can make this.

I’m worried about the “you have to look gorgeous” part. I mean, Baz is. He’s the most beautiful man alive. But I’m not, not really. What if the plan goes wrong because of me?

What if people decide that I’m not enough for Baz and don’t support us? Well, I guess that what matters is that they support _him_.

“Stop it.” Baz says from somewhere at my side.

“I’m not doing anything.” I roll closer to his body. He’s sitting against the bedhead, reading a thick folder of documents; so, I rest my head on his lap, brushing my fingers over his thighs.

“I can hear you overthinking all the way over here.” He says and he’s probably rolling his eyes.

“All the way over there, huh? Very far, then.” I tease him and I leave a tiny kiss on his hipbone.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, running his hand trough my hair.

“Not-“

“Don’t say it’s nothing or I’ll kick you out of the bed.” He warns me and I bite my lip to stop the word, because that’s obviously what I was going to say.

“I’m just worried about the gala thing, that’s all.” I mutter.

He’s quiet for a while, then, “If you don’t wanna come it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No. No, no. I want to help, I don’t care about me. Not really. It’s not about that.” I tell him, “To be honest, I’m fucking happy that everybody will finally know you’re mine. At least those fucking invitations you keep receiving from all those hot chicks for parties and galas will stop arriving.” (I may be a little jealous every time he receives one, even though I know he really doesn’t care about those girls).

“Yours.” Baz agrees and he says it so fondly that I have the urge to say: “I love you.”

“I mean, how could you not? I’m pretty awesome.” He mocks me and I snort.

“I take it back.”

“You can’t.” He laughs and caresses my cheek gently. “If you _do_ wanna come to the gala, then what’s the matter?”

“You know what Niall said about the being gorgeous and all, to gain fans?”

“Yes.”

“What if I’m not pretty enough and I’ll end up ruining the plan?” I murmur, barely more than a whisper (maybe I’m hoping he won’t hear me), “I don’t want to be the one who keeps you from winning.”

He throes the folder on the floor next to the nightstand. “Are you fucking serious, Snow?” He blurs out and stops combing my hair.

I nod a little.

“You really don’t know, do you?” He breathes out, rolling me on my back and laying on top of me.

“Know what?” I crack out, trying desperately to hide from his eyes, but there is nowhere else to go, because he keeps me in place under him, cupping my cheeks with his hands.

“How beautiful you are.”

“I’m… a mess.” I point out and he cocks an eyebrow.

“A beautiful mess.”

I lean to kiss him, because I already feel my cheeks turn red in embarrassment, but he knows exactly what I’m trying to do, so he moves back a little and I pout.

“Just kiss me, already.”

“Oh, I will.” He replies, eyes darkening, “I will kiss every single inch of your body.” And before I can say anything, even before I can process his words, he starts trailing kiss all over my skin, on my face, my neck, my chest, my arms.

After every kiss, he murmurs secret praises against my skin and… okay. If he says it like _that_ , I may allow myself to believe that I’m beautiful to his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just - really like this chapter, I don't know!  
> I love how they all have each others' backs! Found Family.
> 
> Anyways, I'll probably write the DeNiall short fic of this AU! But it'll probably be up after I finish publishing this one. :) (I say probably because I'm a very impulsive person and I never really know lol)(I could literally publish it tonight, if I feel like it; just saying)
> 
> Take care x


	40. sneaking in and shaking hands

SIMON

I’m distantly playing with Baz’s hands when he bumps his nose against my cheek kindly, before leaving a tiny kiss right next to my earlobe. “You’re still in time to change your mind, you know.” He murmurs, even if we are alone in the limousine.

Because, of course, we have a limousine.

And, of course, we’re both wearing suits that are more expensive than my apartment’s rent. I feel like some sort of prince, dressed like this; or maybe it’s just that Baz looks like a proper prince and standing next to him makes me feel like one too.

My suit is velvet grey, with tiny embroidered damasks; Baz’s is black with elegant magenta flowers embellished in the fabric (it’s not as showy as some of the floral suits he owns, but it’s very pretty and it screams ‘Baz’ from every inch).

“I’ve already told you about sixty-seven times that I’m with you every step of the way.” I tell him, intertwining our fingers. “So, sixty-eight: I won’t change my mind, we’re gonna do this together.”

“God, I love you, you nightmare.” He grins and leans in to kiss me on the lips. “You’re fucking hot with this suit, I can’t wait to take it off of you, tonight.” He murmurs against my mouth, voice hoarse.

My whole body blooms with goosebumps. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Pitch.” Which is, basically, a lie, because he’s much, much more. He’s stunning, breath-taking, heart-wrecking. He’s so beautiful that it’s almost painful looking at him. “Still I wish you didn’t buy it for me.”

He snorts, loudly. “I’ve already told you that _I_ am the reason you had to buy the suit, so it was just fair that _I_ was the one to pay for it. Besides, I literally consider it a present for myself… Seeing your ass in these trousers is just, ah – the best gift ever.”

“My ass is at your disposal tonight.” I smirk lasciviously. “Here’s the deal: if tonight goes well, you’ll have the fucking best Victory-Sex of History. If it doesn’t go well, you’ll have the best fucking Consolation-Sex of History.”

“Either way it’s a win for me…” He shrugs, his eyes getting a little darker. “But now stop it, or I’ll have to ask the driver to turn the car and bring us home.”

“Fine.” I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder, “Do you have any advice for a first-timer on the red carpet?”

“It’s not really a red carpet,” He says, calmly. “Just be yourself, give the world that beautiful smile of yours. Just… Don’t give them your Baz-smile, please. That one is just for me.”

“Baz-smile?” I ask, brow furrowed.

“Yes, sometimes you do that thing, like you’re trying to do an evil grin, but it’s really a smile-y pout. You wrinkle your nose like this,” He says, doing an idiotic adorable face, “That’s cute, that’s just mine.”

“My grins are excellent grins,” I roll my eyes, but I feel like a puddle of sappiness. “But okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Good.” He nods, with a dumb little smile. I guess I get what he’s saying, because I feel like this dumb smile is his Simon-smile. It’s a face he does only when he’s with me.

Right now, alone with Baz and our posh suits, I feel happy, but there it still that nod of anxiety and panic in my belly. God, how I hope tonight goes well.

 _Please_.

When the car stops, my hands start to shake a little and I think that probably Baz can feel it, because he brings them to his mouth and kisses them tenderly. “Thank you.” He whispers.

“I love you. I love you so much.” I whisper back and I lean to steal a final kiss before the show begins.

“I love you too, Simon Snow.” He says, against my lips and that’s the only reassurance I need. I can do this. For Baz, I can do anything.

(That doesn’t mean this shit isn’t scary as hell, though.)

I see the exact moment when, right before the driver open the door, Baz’s face goes from my-sweet-boyfriend to fucking rich-and-powerful-CEO. It’s quite terrifying how used he is to wear a mask. Luckily, after tonight he won’t have to anymore. At least, not as often.

“Let’s start this revolution!” He says, before getting off the car.

BAZ

The cameras are already flashing at me, as soon as I step on the sidewalk; for a second, I think about running away.

But… but.

If Simon can do this for me, then I _have_ to do it for myself too. I owe myself that much. I wonder if my mom is watching me right now; I wonder what she thinks of this. I picture her saying: _Be brave, Baz._

So I do.

I give them my well-tested red carpet’s smile, before turning and helping Simon get off the car after me. I offer him my hand and when he’s outside, I don’t let go.

I intertwine our fingers together and I study for a second his face, to see if there is any regret on it, but I can’t find anything but determination.

God, my beautiful, courageous Simon.

He gives me a tiny smile, then the tsunami of questions and shouts hits us.

“Mr. Pitch, is that your date?”

“Is him the guy from that article?”

“Who is he?”

“Are you an official couple, Mr. Pitch?”

I try to maintain my chill; I discovered years ago that the only way to survive these things is focus on one good thing and cut out all the other voices. Obviously, the good thing I’m focusing on is the one holding my hand right now. Him and my freedom.

We pose for some pics, just for a few minutes; Simon is a little clumsy at first, not really knowing on which camera to focus on, or how to stand next to me, but we somehow manage to get through it.

He’s as bright as the sun, never stopped smiling for a single second. He must really love me.

We walk toward the entrance and I squeeze Simon’s hand when he gets too shaky. “You’re doing great, love.” I whisper.

“Not so sure.” He mumbles, but he squeezes back, walking with me.

Right before the stairs, there are the journalists, huddling to reach us first. I stop in front of a lady with black hair and tick glasses; usually, I never answer their questions, but today it’s part of the plan, so here we are.

“Mr. Pitch, thank you for giving me your time! I’m Katia, for _RDV,_ can you tell us who’s this handsome boy is?”

I give her my best smile, because that’s what’s expected from me tonight; I hate everything second. “His name is Simon.”

I see him smiling next to me, even if I can tell that’s not a real smile – but that’s just because I spend hours studying his face. “Is he your… date?” The lady asks, a little unsure, probably scared of making wrong assumptions.

“Yes.” I say, “My boyfriend.”

I move to the next journalist, leaving the lady pouting a little.

“Mr. Pitch, Anderson for _Number One_ , everybody is wondering if this is your official coming out?” A man asks me, his enthusiasm is too big to be true, I already knows he’ll probably change whatever I say, so I decide to give him a vague answer.

“Something like that.” I shrug casually, smiling sharply, and I move on and on and on, answering stupid ass questions, squeezing Simon’s hand and being as polite as I can.

When we’re almost at the end of the little crowd of journalists, a young blond woman interrupts me abruptly. “Does that mean that all the other girls you attended every event with were all just coverages? Ways to hide your queerness?”

“They were friends. I never pretended to date them.” I say, forcing myself not to groan at her. Asshole.

“But you never had a male date on red carpets, either.”

“That’s just because I never found anyone worth dating before Simon.”

There is a quick change of expression on her face that I can’t quite place, like her eyes softened, but her voice is still cold and a little aggressive, “Do we have to expect to see him around you often then? Or maybe you’ll go back to bring your _friends_ to these events?”

Bubbles of anger burns in me, but I know how to behave with journalists like her. I’ve done this since I was ten. Besides, we already knew questions like this were coming. Mordelia said, be funny and casual. I can do that, even if the idea makes me want to gag. “I guess it’s a little early to put a ring on it, if that’s what you’re asking…” I scoff a laugh, for good measure.

(We tried out many ‘jokes’ like this, so I’m sure Simon won’t mind) (Even if the idea of marrying Simon is… a lot.)

Her cheeks flush a little, but she doesn’t give up. “Are things serious between you two?”

“Absolutely.” I nod, without a single doubt and we move on, because there is already a lot of people waiting behind us. I take a deep breath as soon as we are far enough from them.

“To be fair, you did put a ring on it.” Simon teases me, to break the tension and I laugh, because I can’t help it. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen Simon without my ring on, because we decided that it was easier to leave it at home and not set off even more questions about whether we’re engaged or not.

It's weird, though, holding his hand and not feel the cold metal against my skin. It’s always reassuring, to know it’s there.

Mordelia and Dev waiting for us next to the entrance and we get in without troubles or questions, they don’t even ask for our invitations. They’re both astonishing: Mordelia has a pale purple dress with a wide gown (she’d call it a ‘princess dress’), Dev has a navy blue suits that makes his eyes stand out magnificently.

“You’ve done great so far, guys.” Dev says, scrolling through is phone. “There are already hundreds of posts and pics about you two on the net. It has started.”

“Fame is a heavy burden.” Simon sighs dramatically (because yes, maybe I am the drama queen between us, but he’s a dramatic ass as well), “Penny has already retweeted me like twenty posts. They’re rooting for us at home.” He says, showing me a pic of Penny, Shepard, Sam, Matt and Elly all squeezed on the couch.

My heartbeat says: that’s what a family is supposed to be like. A wake of gratitude hits me. Gratitude for my sister, for Dev and Niall, for Penny, for Simon’s friends. For Simon.

“Does father knows we’re here?” I ask Mordelia, checking out the room. There are so. Many. Eyes. All staring at us.

“I saw his assistant murmuring him something like ten minutes ago, so I think he definitely knows by now. He did a weird face.” She shrugs.

We take some drinks, before the second part of the plans: talking with the stakeholders.

I’m still holding Simon’s hand like an anchor to reality. Maybe a memo of why I’m doing this in the first place.

There is an exciting drill in knowing that I’ll be able to do this whenever I want, wherever I want, without the need of glance around and be sure no one’s watching.

“You know, it’s way better to deal with these events as guests than concierges as I've always done till today. Poor inters.” Simon says, taking a sip of his champagne and I roll my eyes at him, grinning.

“Baz?” a perky voice says and I notice Simon freezing beside me.

I turn and I find Miranda Yang smiling widely at me. Yes, Miss Yang. My date at the art exhibit where I first kissed Snow.

“Miranda,” I smile and I let her kiss my cheeks, “You’re stunning.”

“Oh, stop it.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s clear that she accepts the compliment by the way she flips her hair back. “Are you introducing to your friends?”

“Oh, right. Mordelia, my sister, and Dev, my cousin. This is Simon, my… boyfriend.” It’s still weird to tell it to ‘strangers’ (not that Mrs Yang is a stranger, but she’s not more than an acquaintance).

Simon gives her a sharp smile, pretty much like the one he was wearing in front of the journalists. I’d roll my eyes at him for acting like an idiot, but I drop it.

Surprising everyone, most of all me, she says, cheerfully, “I’m glad you finally came out!”

“Uhm, what?” I mumble, “You knew?”

“Of course I knew, you barely looked at me when we went to that exhibit, not even when I was flirting with you. That was quite obvious after the first five minutes. I’m very happy for you, anyways. You two are a cute couple.”

“We really are, thank you.” Simon smiles, mellifluous. I try to cover the laugh that escapes from my lips by coughing, because what a _sassy_ little bitch my boyfriend is. Luckily, Miranda is already distracted by a friend of her passing by to notice.

Before dismissing herself, she steps closer to me and says frankly, “I’ll have your back with my dad. I know how these things work and I know you’ll need allies, consider me as one.” She winks, before disappearing in the crowd, hair waving behind her.

“Well,” Mordelia says, “Snowbaz 1 – misogyny 0.”

“Snowbaz?” Simon laughs, all the tenseness leaving his body.

“Yeah, that’s your ship’s name. Niall and I spent quite some time figuring out how to match your names, while Dev was doing his tiring lawyer stuff.” She shrugs and I roll my eyes.

“Guess we just found a supporter without even looking for it… Mr. Yang is one of the most important customers we have. That’s good, very good.”

“Yeah, don’t get in head over heels, Bazzie. You still have tons of work to do tonight, so you better get going. I see Mr. Parker right there, go and be charming.” Dev orders, pointing with his head at the corner of the room.

“Dev and I will deal with dad. Go, c’mon.” Mordelia says, shooing us away.

That’s how we spend the following hours: shaking hands, answering uncomfortable questions, giving polite smiles.

Everybody is kind, some more some less – it’s not like we expected them to treat us bad at my father’s gala, but still.

The stakeholders are easily divisible in: supporters, haters and not-caring.

The ones who don’t care are my favourites, because that’s how it should work: not judging me for who I am, but for what I do as their CEO.

The dinner is easy, even enjoyable, because we are sited at a round table with Dev and Mordelia, Miranda and his father, Mr. Brown and his wife and some other people.

Mr. Brown and his wife are the proud founders of an association who provides sustain for queer teens and I notice how interested in the topic Simon is. I guess it’s because they deal mainly with teens in foster care, giving them a refuge and a safe place when they need it… I wonder if he’s okay. It must be hard for him, to talk about these things, especially here where they don’t know about his past. I squeeze his knee under the table, just to remind him that I’m here for him.

It's not until after dinner that I decide to actually go talk to my father.

Daphne smiles brightly at us as soon as we’re close enough, “I’m happy you made it, Baz! Simon, how good to see you again.” She says it like we were actually invited; I wonder if she Mordelia told her about our plan or if Daphne is just really that smart and figured it out on her own.

“You’re stunning tonight, Miss Grimm.” Simon tells her, with a shy smile. I’ll definitely make fun of him later for being such a gentleman – even if I can’t deny that she _is_ gorgeous.

“Father.” I say, offering him my hand and he shakes it, brow slightly furrowed.

“Basilton, what a surprise.” He says it like he’s not surprised at all. We talk for a while, about little stuff, like dinner and the guests, mainly thanks to Daphne who keeps carrying on the conversation. When Daphne and Simon lose themselves in God knows what topic, my father leans closer to me and says, in a low voice, “You did quite a mess tonight.”

“I know. That was the point.” I tell him, “Now the gears are spinning and you can’t stop it. No one can.”

“Every single stakeholder talked to me about you.” His tone is neutral and I can’t figure if they said good or bad stuffs. Probably both. When I don’t even flinch, he adds, “That was your plan. Making everyone talk about you two.”

“Yes,” I nod, satisfied. “You’ll reckon we have a very talented lawyer in our family and that he loves me very much. _Our_ plan is ineluctable. I guess now you just have to decide if you want to help your son or not. Either way, I’ll get where I’m meant to me. Where mom wanted me to be. Take your time, think about it, then pick a side. Just remember that I won’t stop here.”

He studies my face for a while, a long while in which everything is frozen and still, then he says, “There is so much of your mother in you.”

He doesn’t say anything else and I’m not sure if that was a good or bad answer, but it’s _something_ and for now it’s enough. That means a lot to me, because my mom was the bravest, smartest person on Earth and dad knows it. He knows it and he said this nonetheless.

_That’s something._

"Daphne wants you two home for your birthday." he tells me, taking a sip from his glass.

Is this a truce? A peace offering? I still haven't figured my dad out. "We'll be there." I tell him, because at the end of the day, I really want to spend my birthday with my family, even if we don't always go along.

At the end of the gala, when people start to go away, we decide to go at the stadium, as Niall’s football just ended and Dev is a total pain in the ass because he wants to see him as soon as possible.

“Stop pouting, we’ll be there in half an hour.” I tell him, rolling my eyes.

He pinches my arm, “Shut up, it’s just – I’ve never missed a match since we got together.”

“You two are absolutely sappy.”

“Said Baz Pitch holding Simon Snow’s hand.” He snorts.

I shrug, “Maybe it’s in out DNA. To be gay and sappy.”

He laughs at that, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Probably.”

“I’m neither gay or sappy.” Mordelia points out, stepping in our conversation.

“Yet.” We answer in unison and we burst out laughing.

The limo arrives and they all get in, but before I can follow them, someone says, “Good work, Pitch.”

I turn to see the blonde mean journalist looking at me, hands sunk in her coat pockets and red cheeks bitten by the cold night.

“Are you always this arrogant?” I snap back, because she said Pitch. Not Mr. Pitch, nor Baz. _Pitch_.

“Yes,” she shrugs, “And brutal, that’s why I do the work I do.”

I roll my eyes, “Throw all the shit you want at me in your article, I don’t care, but please leave Simon out of it. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The corner of her mouth flinches, “I definitely won’t leave him out of it.”

I shrug, “I had to try.”

“You didn’t even ask what magazine I work for.” She replies, impassable, and when she understands I won’t ask, she adds, “ _METRO_.”

“I guess I’ll read it with my morning tea, then. Good night.” I say, coldly, before getting in the limo and closing the door behind me.

I can say, in all fairness, that tonight went better than I expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's literally midnight and I just finished editing the chapter, because I promised I'd try and publish it today, so here it is! :)  
> If you want to see how i imagined their outfits, i published them on tumblr! @lovi-ngbooks
> 
> (I invented all the names of the magazines, but the METRO)
> 
> Take care x


	41. Morning After and Blonde Savior

BAZ

Not going to the after party last night was one of the best decisions I’ve ever take. I basically traded more uncomfortable questions and photographs, with spending the night with my friends at the football stadium.

How I missed playing football. I’ve never done that in America, as I don’t have enough free time (well, I have some, but I always decide to spend it all with Simon) and I don’t have Dev and Niall to play with. After we graduated, Dev and I stopped playing as much as we used to, to concentrate on our work… Niall, well, football _is_ his career and he’s very good at it.

We borrowed Niall’s old uniforms and we played for a while, Simon and Mordelia too, even if they were just literally chatting, kicking the ball from time to time (and Dev and Niall kept finding every excuse to kiss and kiss and kiss)(sappy assholes, they are quite adorable together).

I’m still not sure if Simon’s ass looks better in his new elegant trousers or in those football shorts. I’d lie if I said that’s not what I’ve been thinking about all night – well, till we got home and Simon kept his promises, then I wasn’t able to think at all.

I’ll never ever say it out loud, but Simon Snow really knows how to use his body. Sex God.

And I’m not just saying it because he just finished sucking me off.

“You are insatiable.” I groan, pulling him up to my mouth, to kiss him.

“Just thought you’d use some… Distraction, before checking the News.” He murmurs, smiling a little against my lips.

“You can distract me anytime.” I smirk, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tightly.

We’re still in bed and we kissed the morning through, both our phones securely shut off, to block the world from ruining our little bubble of happiness.

“I pretty much already do, but thanks for the rec, I guess.” He shrugs, mocking me. He hides his face in the crook of my neck, trailing sloppy kisses. “I’m afraid your sister will storm in here if we don’t turn on our phones. She’s kind of scary.”

“Five more minutes,” I sigh, “I just want to be happy for five more minutes and then we can watch my life go to shit. Just… five more.”

“Your life won’t got to shit, Baz. Wasn’t the Victory-Sex a proof enough?”

“Oh, that was a very good Victory-Sex, if I become the boss, we’ll have to do that again eventually. You know that thing you did with your –“

“Don’t say it.” He warns me, covering my mouth with his hand; his cheeks are bright red. I laugh against his palm, before licking it. “Gross!” He yikes away.

“How can that be gross when just last night we –“

“Fucking shut up, asshole.” He blurs out, before kissing me. I love how he goes all shy talking about these things.

Eventually, after _way_ _more_ than five minutes, a lot of kisses and touching, and getting a cup of coffee and a cup of tea, we have to turn on our phones. They basically explode from too many notifications.

Simon is sitting between my legs on the bed, back pressed against my back, so that we can check out our phones together.

“That’s… a lot.” He murmurs, scrolling through his texts.

And it is.

I have gained millions of followers in a single night; there are people commenting under my posts, tagging me, sending me messages. I press on the last pic I posted some days ago, a pic from the plane’s window on my way to London and I scroll through the comments.

There are dozens of hate messages under it, with words I’m not really willing to repeat, but Simon just squeezes my knee and tell me to move on, so I do.

That’s when I start seeing the hundreds of supportive comments. There are tiny pride flag emoticons all over the place, hearts, kind words, people saying things like “On your way to freedom!”.

That’s… really a lot. I feel a little overwhelmed, by just how fast people started to care. To support.

“Seems like it worked, huh?” Simon says, smiling, scrolling through his texts. “Penny says there are already some articles in the American magazines too.”

Mordelia’s ID caller pops out on my screen, “You are extremely annoying.” I tell her, instead of saying hello.

I’ll probably be deaf from an ear, because she screams, “Check out the Snowbaz hashtag! Niall and I used it for some pics we posted and now it’s _viral_. Check it out right now!” and she hangs up, probably too busy being excited to say anything else.

There is, in fact, a hashtag trending with our mixed names. Tons of pictures of Simon and I at the gala pop out on our screens, of us holding hands and smiling at the cameras.

(We do really are a hot couple, I must admit…) (And I definitely don’t mind having all these pictures of Simon in that suit.)

“Fuck.” Simon mutters, scrolling through the pics. “This is super weird.”

“It’s weird how _fast_ that happened. Mind-blowing.” I agree, “But we already knew – hoped at least – that the Community would do this online, be supportive and spread the news. It’s the News that makes me worry.”

“LGBTQ Community is awesome.” He murmurs, in awe. “I never felt like I belonged to it… You know, as I just had a female girlfriend till now, so… But they don’t even seem to care about that. They’re just… there for us, even if I was a Mr. Nobody till yesterday.”

“You’ve never been a Mr. Nobody.” I roll my eyes, placing my chin over his shoulder. It still pisses me off that he doesn’t see his worth. “But yeah, what they did is pretty awesome. Maybe we’ll finally be able to go to a pride parade. I always wanted to, but I never had the chance.”

“We’ll go together.” He says, turning to look at me, with a empathetic look in his eyes. “With Dev and Niall and Penny and it will be fantastic. More than you ever dreamed about.”

I kiss him to seal this promise. _Together_.

We split all the articles we have to check out and we gap them in positive and negative, just to see if we have more supporters or haters. It’s pretty much 50/50.

There are many articles saying that it was unprofessional of me, saying that ‘some things should’ve be kept at home’, saying that I am too young to be a CEO because I don’t take my job seriously. As if these journalists know how to rule a company. As if they know all the sacrifices I made to be where I am today. As if they’re not just judging me for being gay.

But there are also many other articles, positive and supportive; reporters saying that the bravery of our act shouldn’t be received with such hate, but admiration, others saying that it was about time that there is more representation of queer people in important work positions.

A thing that pisses me off, though, is how many times they say the word _brave_.

I don’t want to be brave; I just want to be myself.

There shouldn’t be the need to be brave in just being yourself.

That’s what’s wrong with society. And I’m so fucking tired about that.

An article that catches my attention says, “If we receive this much honesty from Baz Pitch, then we know we won’t get nothing less by his company and their magazines”. That’s a very good way to put it.

Also, _his_ company sounds pretty adequate, as that’s what I’m trying to conquer. The final goal.

This las article is actually… the best article they’ve written about this whole thing. It doesn’t even mention that what we did was scandalous or unexpected. It tells about sincerity and honesty, uncensored truths, uncomfortable revelations. The fact is, though, that it mostly refers to the Pitch Ink.

It doesn’t talk much about me and Simon, but all the things it says about us are simple and quite funny, seasoned with irony, about how we match and how great we look together.

It’s almost as if the writer wanted to emphasise how trustworthy the company can become if I take over my dad. And that is… quite exactly the point of what this revolution (besides my personal freedom).

I’m impressed, I should definitely share this article, to make people understand how great we can become. My father and the stakeholders won’t be able to ignore a thing like that. Written on an important magazine.

I almost choke on my tea when I realize where this last article is from. _METRO_.

“Motherfucker.” I mutter, before reading it through again.

But yes, it’s exactly the magazine that blonde mean reporter worked for. “Do you recall that journalist very aggressive? The blondie?”

“Yes.” Simon nods, casually. He has that face, the sheepishly one.

“What?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

“What what?” He snaps back, tensing imperceptibly.

“I guess there is an email you should read.” He says, pointing at my phone, “Before I explain.”

I hate when he has secrets with me. I snort, a little pissed off, but I open the email app nonetheless. “Which one? There are like hundreds.”

He scrolls down for a little, then open one and stares at me while I read it (annoying).

_Pitch,_

_I guess you’re probably wondering why I’ve written what I’ve written in my article, despite torturing you a little last night. I wasn’t trying to find your wrecking point – well, that wasn’t my only purpose, anyway – I was trying to understand what you’re made of._

_You’ll be surprised to know that, under all your fake charm and sharp smiles, I found honesty and a good heart, even if they are deep hidden under the surface. Most of all, I found the love you have for Simon Snow and that was exactly what I was looking for._

_You’re probably wondering why, for a stranger, it was so important to know whether or not you were sincere. About your goals and about your feelings for Simon._

_The truth is that I didn’t have to come to the gala to write this article, because someone already gave me all the information I needed about you and your situation. I guess the name Penelope Bunce sounds familiar to you._

_She asked me to write this article about you and Simon, about the company, as I’m free to write what I please, because I am one of the majors of the magazine I work for._

_I only write truths, though. I had to be sure you were exactly what she claimed you were. Must of all, I wanted to be sure you are treating Simon right, because God only knows how much he’s worth._

_You are._

_That’s why I decided to write the article you needed. By the time you’ll read this email, almost everyone in England will have read my words and will probably decide to trust your words and your magazine from this day on. Words are power and I decided to offer you some of mine. Don't make me regret this._

_Simon and Penny will answer to any further question you might have._

_Good luck with your goal,_

_Agatha Wellbelove_

“Simon,” I mutter, “is this Agatha _that_ Agatha?”

“Yes,” He says, slowly, looking a little uncertain, “Don’t get mad. I didn’t know either, Penny told me like an hour before we got to the gala and told me to act as if I didn’t know her, because that was part of the deal. Agatha didn’t want you to know who she was, because she thought you’d act differently. I just… wanted to help. Penny wanted to help, don’t get mad. Things are going okay, don’t get mad. You know she doesn’t mean anything but an old friendship to me.”

“You mean,” I breath out, rubbing my eyes, “That your ex-girlfriend just saved my ass?”

“Something like that.” He says, caressing my wrist, he’s pouting a little, “Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not.” I sigh, hiding my face in Simon’s neck, “This is just utterly humiliating.”

He gives me that tiny grin (his _Baz-smile_ ), “You’ll get over it, eventually. I can kiss it better, if you need me to.”

I groan, trying to keep down a smile. “I suppose I can bear one Wine Saturday with her, after all.”

“Yeah, I suppose you can.” He says, kissing his jaw and, in facts, he proceeds to kiss all my body, to make me feel better.

Because Simon Snow is like that, even if the world manages to burst our little bubble of happiness, it takes him all of two seconds to create another one. A happier, safer one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that was unexpected! lol  
> I've been dying to introduce Agatha like this. Hope it was worth the wait for you too!
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR! I wish y'all all the happiness and the health in the world in 2021.✨
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that you don't have to be out and/or know exactly who you are, to be a part of the LGBTQ+ community. It took me some time to figure this out, but I eventually got there. I thought I didn't belong, as I am not openly out and just my closest friends know about me, but that's bullshit. YOU BELONG. This is a family, you belong. You are valid, whoever you are.
> 
> Take care x


	42. The Meeting and Surprising Revelations

SIMON

The following days are absolutely terrifying, our (not just Baz’s) phones keeps ringing, our social networks are exploding (even if I have private accounts mostly, because I usually post anything that comes to my mind) (like the other day when I found this cute little koala pic and I posted it with the caption _Baz as the little_ _spoon_ … Because that was fucking adorable, even if nobody seemed to think so) and life is weirder than ever.

First of all, we have no idea how people managed to find me, as Baz never told the reporters my last name, but somehow, they did.

Besides that, people from every stage of my life – like old classmates, old co-workers, and so on - keep calling me. I’m not even joking, at this point. Everyone is like “Dude, congrats on your coming out!” as if they still talk to me in real life _and_ I wasn’t out before (I was, with my friends at least). Also, _congrats_?! Really?

Even some of the ladies from my care homes called me, but most of them were just checking out if I were okay, and I really appreciated that. It was good to know how they are doing, as it’s been years since I last saw them.

For Baz is definitely worse. He can’t go anywhere without finding paparazzi, reporters or stuff like that. Which… Don’t people have their own life? Does the only care this world has is a gay young CEO? Lame.

It’s been a very tiring and strange week, probably the most tiring and weird one of my entire life, but somehow Baz and I have never been closer, so it’s all worth it. I’m still not used to holding his hand on the streets, and every time we do, I have to remind myself that now this is _allowed_ and I don’t have to step away. _That we can be us even if the whole world is watching._

We even dared to exchange a quick kiss the other day at Hyde Park… The day after it was on the magazines. It was worth it.

The thrill of it all is that Baz is _happy_. I mean, his eyes are tired as fuck (okay – the lack of sleep is partly my fault too), but they also look so happy, relieved. Alive alive alive.

That’s way I don’t regret what we did, not even for a single second.

Some days, though, the targets on our backs are heavier to carry, like whenever we stumble on fake news of Baz already cheating on me or me being a social climber. None of that is true, we both know, but it’s still awful to realize that there are people hating us for no real reason. But we know what we were going to face and we’ll carry on despite everything.

It’s been five days since the gala and today Baz has a meeting; not just a meeting, but The Meeting, with all the stakeholders. The most important one of his career and that’s probably why he’s walking back and forth in his bedroom, repeating all the things he has to say, like a low angry and determined hum.

“You know, I bet this is what assisting a tennis match feel like.” I tell him, trying to make him smile, but he barely acknowledges me with a snort. I mean, I’m definitely not complaining to stare at him walking around wearing nothing but black boxers, but I’d rather he was calm, because every time he freaks out, he makes me freak out too.

So, I try with plan B to distract him, which I’m quite sure will work, because I _know_ Baz. “What are you gonna wear today?”

He stops abruptly on his steps and intertwines his fingers on the back of his neck, “You are a menace.” He groans, before opening the closet. One point for me!

“Not to pressure you or anything, but I’m quite sure I know what I’m doing when I say –“

“You never know what you’re doing, Snow.” He snorts, eyes a little amused.

“Well, fair point, but still fuck you.” I scoff a laugh. “Anyways, I was saying, before you impolitely interrupted me: you have to wear those black jeans.”

He turns to me, eyebrow cocked. “Jeans. For an important meeting.” He repeats, slowly, as if he’s talking to a kid.

“Yes.” I nod, shamelessly.

“No way.” He rolls his eyes.

I pout, to let him know I’m absolutely outraged (not really, but he doesn’t need to know the truth on this particular topic) (he’s quite good at reading me, anyways, so he’ll probably figure that out himself). “But I deserve to see you in those jeans.” 

He grins, with that wicked grin of his, “So it wasn’t really about the meeting.”

“It’s about how your ass looks in those jeans.” I admit, absolutely shameless, even if my cheeks turn red (traitors).

He closes his eyes, and sighs, “Simon, Simon, Simon…” The way he says my name always makes me fly. Then, a smile blossom on his lips, “Here’s the deal, tonight I’ll take you out for dinner and you’ll pick my outfit.”

“Fuck, yes.” I nod furiously, lips slightly parted.

“But I’ll pick yours.” He smirks, challenging me.

I groan, thinking about how ridiculous I’ll look, but it’ll be worth it if I can make him dress like I already pictured in my mind. He’ll be so fucking hot. “Deal, Mr. Pitch.”

BAZ

You know that feeling? When you are standing in the middle of two armies shooting at each other and you can’t do anything but watch passively and hope they won’t hit you?

That’s how the meeting feels like. Half of the stakeholders are spreading support, the other half is spreading hate.

There are around thirty people in the room, all men and almost all white. If I actually manage to take over my father, this will be the first things I’ll change. Companies, as everything, needs the right balance between women and men, all the nuances of skin colour and all the ages. That’s how you can represent the people, especially since we claim to be one of the most open-minded magazines in the world.

What a bunch of assholes.

So that’s how I spend two hours of my life. Listening to people shouting about my private life, like I’m not even in the room.

I can’t stand it anymore when a man with round glasses and an even rounder belly says that I’ll bring down the company and all of them with my unnatural life-style.

So, I clear my throat and say, in the colder voice I can manage, “You know what would be fun? If there were reporters listening to all the things you are saying.”

The silence shakes the room.

“No, really, I’m sure everybody will be happy to know that until I came out, you were all okay with me taking after my dad, but now I’m suddenly not fit for the role, because I’m too young and I don’t understand my responsibilities.” I say and I feel everybody’s gazes on me, but especially my father’s. “You and I know that you can’t fire me or I’ll take the whole company down with me, even if that’s the last thing I want to do. You know me, I’ll do that if I need to. You’ve read all the articles written about me these days, you’ve seen that people are ready to support me, if that’s what it’ll take. You sure as hell read that people think that what we sell are truths, after the article on the METRO. We’ve never been more under the spotlight than now and yet here you are, complaining. This week we literally had a sales record.”

“Yes, but you’re still not the right person –“ a stakeholder tries to say, but I cut him off. I’m not taking their bullshits anymore.

“I am the right person. I’ve literally studied for this for my whole life, I was _raised_ for this. You won’t find anyone who cares about this company more than I do, that’s my promise. I am the only one who can take what my father offers now and make it so much more. I can make great things out of this company, if you are willing to take the risk.”

I look at my dad, to see if he’ll help me out, but he’s looking at the papers in front of him, brow furrowed. And thank you very much.

They are all staring at me, some smiling a little, some angry, some just unsure.

“I see that the problem is literally the fact that I’m not straight, but what do you all care about? It’s not like I’ll bring my boyfriend here and parade him in front of everyone. I take my job seriously. I did what I had to at the gala to catch your attention and now that I have it, I’m asking if you’re willing to raise the stake. To take the next step and become great.”

“Other companies won’t take us seriously.” Someone says.

I groan at that, but before I can say anything, I hear my father’s voice loud and clear. “When did we care about other companies? We care about our readers, Anderson. You better remember that.” He looks at me and suddenly there is something in his eyes. “You are not accepting my son because you feel threatened by him and you know that things will change around here as soon as he is in charge. You are afraid of the changes that he’ll bring, but that’s exactly what we need. Fresh air. I’ll retire at the end of this year and my son will take after me, that’s what Natasha wanted, that’s what I want. I’ve not seen it before, but I’m seeing it now. He _can_ do great things and he will. The company will fail if you don’t support him and since all you seem to care about is your money, now I’m saying something you can understand: to gain more, you have to trust Basilton. He knows what it takes to succeed. That’s it, there are no other ways; especially not easier ones.”

I’m speechless.

I didn’t think he’d actually help me out, let alone say these things.

It means more than I can say, because I feel like finally – finally – my father _sees_ me. He sees me for all that I am and all I can be.

“Here’s my offer, we’ll meet again in two days. You’ll think about it and we’ll decide something this Monday. Take your time, read the news, understand whether you want to raise the steak or lose everything and then come back on Monday.” My father says, before giving all of them a warning glance. He’s, in fact, quite good at that. I’ve received more than I can count in my life, so I know it works every time.

Maybe, maybe we’ll make it, in the end.

I don’t get to talk to my dad after the meeting, because Mr. Brown steals me away, to tell me just how much he thinks I’ve done great in there and he believes I’ve already won.

I wish that was true, everything would be easier. Instead, I’m here, walking on a road made of uncertainties. The worst part is that I made Simon walk on it too and I’ll never forgive myself about it if things go wrong.

I call him as soon as I leave the office, because I just really need to hear is voice after three hours of screams and shouts.

“Baz.” He says, picking up at the first ring. He was probably waiting for me to call, the moron. My sweet, adorable moron. He wasn’t very happy when I told him he didn’t need to come to the office, but in the end, I managed to convince him.

“Snow, you hungry?”

“No,” he says, casually, and I’m sure he’s actually hungry, so I’ll take something to eat on the way home. “How did it go?”

“Messy.” I snap back, “Tell me about your day?” I ask softly, because I just really need to hear is soft voice mumbling in my ear.

He seems to get the hint, “Remember how you said you wanted me so bad to pick your outfit tonight? I might have gone shopping.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I said,” I scoff a laugh, because Snow went shopping? Really? “What did you buy?”

“I’m not telling you,” He laughs in my ear and I do feel better now, “But, spoiler: you’ll be so fucking hot. Like, so. Fucking. Hot.”

“If you’re gonna make me wear a unicorn pyjamas, we’re breaking up.” I snort, as if I’ve ever been able to break up with Simon Snow.

“Oh, damnit! I didn’t think about it.” He says and I know he’s pouting. I wish I were already home to kiss it away. “You’ll thank me later, really. You’ll never want to wear anything else.”

-

Later that noon, after we’ve eaten the takeaway I brought home and I’ve told him about the meeting, we cuddle on the couch (I won’t ever admit that I was the one who asked for it). I’m laying flat on my back and he’s laying on top of me, ear pressed against my chest.

“I knew your dad wasn’t the villain of your story, after all.” Simon says softly.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure that I am the villain of my story. Isn’t the villain always the sexiest one? That sounds like me.” I snort, running my hands under his shirt.

“You are not a villain, but I won’t disagree on the sexy thing.” He snorts, brushing his nose against my chest with tenderness. “Don’t let it get to your head, though, you prick.”

“Too late for that.” I snap back, “You just said I’m a Sex God.”

“What?! Did I said that out loud?! It wasn’t supposed to!” He squeaks, panicking, and I’m not sure if he’s actually joking or not, but his expression makes me laugh so hard.

“You are an idiot, Snow.” I laugh, kissing his bright red face messily.

“ _Not_ funny.” He mumbles, hiding his face in my neck. “You confuse me.”

“Do I?” I tease him, holding him tighter against me.

“Yes, it’s your stupid face, I guess.” He says and I feel his smile pressing against my skin.

“Yeah, my stupid Sex God face. What a shame.”

He raises his head to look at me, face lit up with joy. “I’m glad we did what we did.” He says, brushing the top of his nose against mine.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I love seeing you happy.”

“Then you love me every time you see me, because when I’m with you, I’m always happy. _You_ make me happy.” I tell him and I cup his face with my hands.

“All the time.” He murmurs, “I love you all the time.”

And is at this very moment that I realize that Simon Snow is _the love of my life_ , that there won’t be anything after him. Perhaps all my life was just a path that lead me right here, in his arms, and God, it was worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little emotional about the fact that this fic is almost over... It's the longest think I've ever written and I love it so much.  
> There are still a few chapters, though.
> 
> Today snowed all day, yayyy!!
> 
> Take care x


	43. Cute Outfits and The Absolute Truth

SIMON

“I’m not wearing that.” Baz snorts, loudly, eyebrow cocked at me.

“I’m wearing your floral shirt, you’re wearing that.” I snap back, drying my hair with the towel.

“Well, the outfit I picked for you isn’t _cruel_.” He rolled his eyes so many times since when I showed him what I bought that I’m surprised he hasn’t got a headache. “Why do you hate me?”

“The real question is, why do I hate myself? If I really let you go outside dressed like _that_ , someone will definitely try to steal you from me.” I say, hugging him from behind. His naked body is still hot from the shower we just took, the scent of cedar and bergamot stronger than ever. “Oh, wait, I know why I do that… Because I want to take those clothes off of you as soon as we get back home.”

He snorts again, but I feel the little laugh that shakes his belly, “Really? So, you’re basically saying that you’re turned on by Niall’s style.”

“Well… yes.”

“Wait, _what_?!” He blurs out, shocked.

“But on you, not on him.” I retort rapidly, glad he can’t see my cheeks turn red. “I just think that leather jacket and boots would fit your I’m-a-very-tough-guy façade.”

He groans, “It’s not a façade, you nightmare.”

“Oh, please, you’re a cinnamon roll.” I laugh, biting his skin jokingly.

“I hate you.” He complains. Drama queen. “If I wear this… whatever, I’m gonna style your look as I want. Hair and everything.”

“Okay.” I sigh, kissing the back of his neck. It’ll still be worth it.

“And you’ll have to find a way to be forgiven, because I really won’t forget that you find my best friend hot.” He snorts.

“I don’t find Niall hot, well, he is, objectively – but, not for me.” I mutter and he tenses in my arms, so I add, “You know I only have eyes for you. Don’t go jealous over something like that.”

“I’m not jealous.” He blurs out, like the thought disgusts him.

“Besides,” I say and I get on my tiptoes to murmur in his ear, “I’m gonna fucking _wreck_ you tonight.” I run my fingers just under the towel hanging low on his hips.

He does a hoarse sound deep in his throat, before turning around and catching me in his arms, with _that_ smirk on his lips. “Promises, promises…”

I bite his bottom lip a little, “I’ll take you apart so slowly that you’ll be able to remember only my name by sunrise.”

His lips collide with mine with such passion, such hunger, that I think we’ll not even be able to leave the room for dinner. But who cares?

Baz does, because after stealing a big moan from me, he moves back a little with a satisfied expression on his face. “Mine.”

“Only yours.” I tell him, a little out of breath. He squeezes my ass one last time, before letting me go.

“Come on, let’s get over with this thing. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back home.” He says, smirking.

I swallow loudly, before grabbing the clothes I bought for him. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Pitch.”

“Why do I put up with you, again?” He asks sarcastically, checking out the clothes.

“Because you love me and you can’t live without me.” I grin, innocently.

“Yeah, that. That’s a good reason.” He admits, after a bunch of seconds and my heart implodes in my chest. “Sit there and wait for me to pick your outfit.” He tells me, before dropping the towel to the floor.

My head starts spinning, even if it’s not the first, nor the hundredth that I see him naked. Gorgeous, gorgeous Baz.

“Staring.” He points out, but he’s not really complaining, because he’s used to it.

“You can’t expect me to stay in front of that,” I gesture toward his body, “and not stare.” 

I study him as he wears the dark grey skinny jeans, cut right over the knees and with a tiny silver chain that link together two bel loops. The tee is quite simple, black with a vintage logo of the Gun’s n Roses, but it’s tight and emphasizes his chest just like I pictured it.

“Snow, stop drooling.” Baz teases me, while he’s putting on the black boots.

“Idiot.” I roll my eyes, biting back a laugh, “A hot idiot, though.”

“Your turn,” he says, handing me a shirt and elegant trousers, “You’re lucky I have my old clothes here, they’ll fit you just right.”

“You’re not _that_ taller than me.” I snort, starting to dress up.

I feel his gaze on my body the whole time, “Aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Then could you please hand me those shoes? The black ones, right in that corner.” He says, pointing at the open closet with his finger. “That would be so kind of you.”

“Bastard.” I mutter under my breath, but I walk to the closet anyway, wearing just his stupid posh black trousers. I try to reach the shoes without getting on my tiptoes (because I still have some dignity), but I really can’t.

I groan, when I see Baz’s hand just over mine, his body pressed against my back, grabbing the shoes effortlessly. “Missing some inches, are you?” He murmurs against my ear and I can feel the grin in his voice.

I press my body back against his, face turned to smirk at him, “You didn’t seem to be complaining about any missing inch last night.”

He almost chokes. It’s glorious.

I laugh, victorious, and I get back to wearing my (Baz’s) shirt, leaving him there with wide eyes and red cheeks.

I finish buttoning up my shirt and I turn to him, “What do you say?”

He sighs, “I think you’ll be the death of me. Come here.”

I do, smiling brightly, and when I’m right in front of me, his fingers fly to the first button. “What are you doing? Buy me dinner first.” I mock him and he rolls his eyes.

“Remember when we went to the club with your friends and my sister?”

I nod, thinking back at the first time I saw Baz behaving like a normal guy in his 20s, then I remember how he was dressed: floral shirt open with his chest in sight (holy fuck) and black trousers just like the ones I’m wearing. I could barely think, when I saw him like that.

“That’s exactly how I want you to dress up.” He smirks, “I recall you were quite… charmed by me.”

“I was fucking turned on. I wanted to fuck you right then and there.” I confess, watching as his fingers expertly unbuttons my shirt.

“I did notice.” He laughs, stepping back to study me. He didn’t open my shirt as much as his was, probably because he knows that I wouldn’t really feel comfortable like that.

The way he bites his lips when he looks at me makes me shiver.

Somehow, he does really manages to style my hair, pulling it away from my forehead. I’d honestly let Baz combs his fingers in my hair all day, because it’s when I’m most at peace with myself.

I somehow convinced him to tie his hair in a messy bun, because it was just the right way to complete the outfit. And it… really does it for me.

Before going out, Baz wears the leather jacket and – I’ve never been more right about anything in my whole life. He is absolutely hot.

“Come here,” he says, when he spots me staring at him in the reflection of the big mirror on the wall.

“What?” I ask, hugging him from behind, and I hear him sigh. He takes my hands and shoves them away from his body and I don’t even try to hide that it hurts. “What?” I ask again, meeting his gaze in the mirror, before he steps away and gets behind me.

“Stop hiding.” He says, rubbing his hands on my armpits.

BAZ

“I’m not hiding.” He snaps back, but he’s looking everywhere but at his reflection.

“You’re beautiful.” I tell him, “Look and see just how beautiful you are.” I place a soft kiss under his ear, but he is obstinately looking at the floor. “Simon, _please_.”

And I see his eyes moving up, trailing his body from his feet to his face, till he fixes his gaze on his eyes. “Can we go now?”

“You’re looking at me, not at yourself.” I tell him, trying not to roll my eyes.

He sighs, but then he finally focuses on his own reflection. He’s so beautiful that it’s almost heart-wrecking. And it’s not because of the fancy clothes. It’s him. All of him spreads light and joy and beauty.

“I’ll keep telling you till you start believing me,” I murmur, my chin on his shoulder, my arms wrapped tightly around him. "Beautiful."

“You’re an idiot.” He murmurs back, just as softly, but his red cheeks betray him.

We just stand there, looking at each other through the mirror, bodies pressed together.

After a while, I hear him swallow loudly and he places his hands over mine, safely linked together on his stomach. “I have to tell you something.” He says quietly, eyes almost afraid and I mental-check whatever I could’ve done wrong in the last days (I mean, besides turning his life upside down).

“What is it?”

He grows silent and I wait, knowing he’s probably trying to pick the right words – months ago I’d have pressured him, I’d have told him to use his words with a teasing smile, but now, now I just want him to feel _safe_. I want him to know that _I_ am a safe place for him, or at least I want to be. Then he says, not looking at me, “I am seeing my therapist again.”

My jaw tenses, guilt bubbling in my body. “Is it because of all the shit I’m making you go through? With the press and everything?”

“What? No.” He mumbles, confused, turning to look at me, “No.”

“Oh.” I whisper, “Since when?”

“Right after the Hamptons.” He admits, sheepishly.

I try to keep my face neutral, “That’s… two months. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy or something.”

It’s almost as if he slapped me, “Why would I think something like that?” I roll my eyes, “You’re not crazy, you’ve just been through a lot. It’s not something you have to feel ashamed of. I think you are very brave to face your problems instead of running.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.” I nod, without doubts. “You don’t have to keep these things from me, though, I wish I knew, I could’ve tried to help you…” Then it hits me that maybe _I’m_ the problem, as he started seeing the therapist after we got together. I take a step back, I feel my body goes weak. “Is it my fault?”

“No,” he says, then, “Yes. I mean, not your fault. But it’s partly because of you.” And he must see the confusion and the hurt on my face, because he adds, “It’s because you decided to offer me a piece of you, when we got together, and I wanted to be able to take care of it – of you. And I couldn’t have done that if I kept having bad days and worst thoughts.”

He cups my face, rubbing his thumbs over my cheekbones, “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to add more weight on your shoulders, I thought I could fix myself on my own and be a better Simon for you. I was tired of running. I don't want to run anymore. Never again. But now I realize that you deserve to know, that I should have told you sooner.”

“You can’t fix yourself because you’re not broken, Simon.” I tell him, pressing my face against his hand. “You’re just a little fucked up, but who isn’t?”

He gives me a tiny smile.

“I love you, Simon Snow. You absolute menace. Yes, you should’ve told me sooner, but I’m glad you told me at all. We’re a _team_ , we deal with these things together, okay? I’m… I’m sorry I made you go through all of this – the company and the gala and the press – while you were dealing with your own problems.”

“You didn’t made me for through anything I didn’t want to go through.” He says, with a little snort. “ _Team_ , huh?”

I roll my eyes, not really managing to hide a smile. "Did you have any more bad days?"

"Not really. Going to the therapist helps, talking about all the mess in my head... I used to see a therapist when I was younger, then I stopped, because I thought it was dumb. You know what helps me most, though?"

"What?"

"You." He says, simply, eyes a little bright. "You make me feel safe and loved and happy. You make me feel like I'm worth it, like I'm not a waste of space. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. I belong to you, with you." 

I don't really know what to say and I feel like I might even cry, so I press our mouths together, trying to give him all that I am. "That's exactly when I feel when I'm with you." I murmur and I hope he believes me, because I've never said something more true.

“Thank you, for all of this. For understanding and sticking with me anyways.”

“Thank you for not making me wear a pyjama unicorn and not calling my bluff… I wouldn’t have had the guts to break up with you for murdering my dignity.” I reply and he laughs, filling my heart with happiness.

“I didn’t want to take the risk.” He says, taking out his phone from his pocket. “Now shut up and let me take about eighty-four thousand pics of you, because I’m not sure I’ll ever be lucky enough to see you dressed like this again.”

And he does, because he’s – as already pointed out – a menace.

(I’ll never admit that he just made me blush.)

(I’ll never admit that I kind of like this outfit; I especially like what this outfit does do Simon.)

Right before leaving the house, he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers together, and he never lets go, because now this is allowed.

Now we can be us everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really needed Simon in a floral shirt and Baz with a messy bun and a leather jacket, so this chapter happened. 
> 
> (I'm sad to announce that I started studying for my exams, so I won't post the chapter as oftens, ugh)  
> (Also, I'm slowly correcting the old chapters)
> 
> Take care x


	44. Happy Birthday and Heartfelt gifts

BAZ

The morning of the 24th February, my 26th birthday, I expect to have the best sex ever, as a gift, you know… but when I open my eyes, Simon is not even in the bed. I groan, in frustration and a little bit of desperation, because _where_ is he?

I’m already getting up to look for him – what if it’s a bad day? What if he left and I didn’t hear him? What if he’s hurt somewhere? – when I hear a rather loud noise coming from the living room and Simon swearing under his breath.

He’s home, he’s safe.

I try to let my heartbeat acknowledge that too, because it’s beating at the speed of light.

I hide my face under the blankets, because it’s not fair that I’m up before noon on my birthday, and I shout, with a rather hoarse voice, “Snow, you okay?”

Every noise from the other room stops and after a second comes his panicked answer, “You’re supposed to be sleeping, you twat! Sleep! Now!”

I sigh, as loud as I can, “I’m fucking cold and you’re not here.” He doesn’t really need to know that, in fact, I can’t really sleep well when he’s not around. Then, just because I’m an asshole, “Because you decided to leave me on my birthday. Who does _that?”_

Silence, then I feel something poke my foot. “I didn’t leave you,” He complains, with a sheepish voice, “You’re such a drama queen.”

I peek at him, lowering the blankets just a little. He’s pouting, a cloud of messy bronze curls on his head. My heart stars to race again, but this time for all different reasons. “Come here, _please_.” I tell him, because I really really really need to kiss him right now.

“No,” He says, and I open my mouth to protest, but he adds, “You’re gonna stay there and pretend to be asleep until I come back.”

I groan, “I absolutely hate you.”

He looks at the door, then at me, like he’s trying to decide what to do. In the end, he looks at me again and I think I’ve won, when I see him lean on me.

He kisses me, feverishly, his tongue chasing mine as soon as our lips touch, and I’m a little high in his scent. I moan in his mouth, trying to pull him down on the bed, but that’s when he steps back, lips red and slightly parted, looking at me like I’m the best thing ever happened to him. He’s sure as hell the best thing ever happened to me.

Maybe not right now, since he won’t just let me _eat him_ , even if I’m _starving_.

(Who am I kidding, he’s always the best thing ever.)

“Stay there and close your eyes.” He orders, before leaving. I let my head fall against the pillow with a groan.

“Not fair!” I shout after him and I hear his laugh echoes in the hallway.

After more rather loud noises coming from the living room and way too much time, I hear his footsteps. “Are your eyes closed?”

“Fuck you, come here.” I complain, rolling my very open eyes.

“Close your eyes, asshole.” He laughs, and when he’s this happy I don’t have the guts to deny him anything – truth is, when he just exists I can’t deny him anything. God, I’m so fucking gone for him.

“Done.” I groan, closing my eyelids.

He sings slowly under his breath, moving around the room; I hear weird noises, like things rubbing against the linoleum, but I’m so focused on his voice that the thought of peeking at him doesn’t even cross my mind.

Something is laid on my nightstand and after a while, I feel something on my lap, then Simon Snow sits next to me on the bed and whispers, “Now you can open ‘em.” So, I do.

I sit up against the headboard of the bed, I look at the large but thin brown envelop on my lap and then at Simon with an eyebrow cocked.

He cups my face with his hands, before kissing me, sweetly, lips rubbing together in a familiar way. “Happy birthday, Baz.” He whispers against my cheek, before kissing the corner of my mouth.

“Thank you,” I smile, because I can’t quite help it. “Don’t birthday boys deserves way more kisses and touching?”

He rolls his eyes, laughing, “Open that first.” He says, pointing at the thing on my lap.

“You didn’t have to buy me anything.” I tell him, squeezing his knee.

“I didn’t.” He shrugs, and after a second of indecision, he adds, “It’s not much, really…”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes, “You’re an idiot, Simon Snow.” I tell him, before unwrapping my gift.

SIMON

I’m absolutely panicking, because this sounded like a good idea at first, but now I realize I should’ve just bought him something instead. This is messy and useless, and I’m not sure he’ll like it.

I keep moving my eyes from the gift to his face, playing with my fingers.

He mumbles something that I can’t quite understand, finally looking at the painting, the wrapping paper lost on the floor.

That’s when I start to mumble nonsense, “Did I ever tell you I used to paint back in college? I took many classes of art, because they were complementary with my photography degree. I had a teacher, Mrs. Stein, she kept saying that I was very talented with portraits, so I thought… Penny said it was a good idea! Blame her as well as me for this. Don’t tell her I said this, though, I don’t want her to kick my ass. She’s quite scary when she looks at me with that face that says – why are you laughing? Stop laughing.”

He cuts me off by kissing me, but it’s not really a kiss, more just his smile colliding with my mouth. Butterflies, so many butterflies, starts to fly in my body – not just my belly, I can feel them everywhere.

“Did you paint this?” He asks, when he moves back.

“I did?” I say, but it sounds more like a question, so I clear my throat and try again, “I did.”

I started painting this right after Christmas, because my therapist said that it would be a good idea to start again, as I stopped when I started working as a photographer. I didn’t plan of painting this, but it seems like my mind just can’t go far from Baz.

The subject of the canvas is us wrapped up together in bed, a mess of sheets and bodies. You can’t see much skin, but the focal point is our faces: we’re not kissing, but our foreheads and our noses are pressed together. Hair sprawled on the pillows, Baz’s hand on my cheek. He’s smiling his wicked smile at me, a secret whispered in paint.

“I love it. I _love_ it.” He says, in awe, running his fingers over the paint, “God, I love _you_.”

I feel my cheeks flush, “I… I sent it to Niall and Dev, when you told me we were gonna spend your birthday here in London. I wanted you to open it today.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to sent it back home, because I wanna hang it on our bedroom’s wall.” He says, smiling.

My brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘ _our_ bedroom’. Our, our, our. I feel like my heart is about to explode.

He carefully lays the painting against the nightstand on the floor, oblivious that I’m about to have a heart attack because of him. When he turns to me, he pulls me on his lap, hands running on the knuckles of my spine. “Thank you,” he says, trailing kisses on my neck.

“You really like it? Like, really?” I ask, combing back his hair.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned and, please, note that I own very beautiful cars.” He says and I laugh.

“Twat.”

It’s just when I feel his fingers running under the waistband of my boxers, that I remember the second surprise, so I slap his hand away.

He sighs – groans? Growls? I don’t know if that is even a human sound. “You’re killing me.”

“Breakfast first,” I tell him, “I asked Rosa for some receipts to try and surprise you, and she told me you love Crumpets, so I tried to cook them.” I grab the plate from the nightstand, “I’m not sure if they are good, though. Never cooked this before.”

“You prepared crumpets? For me?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow, eyes shining.

“Well, I tried,” I scoff a laugh, “They aren’t quite perfect yet, so they’ll probably be better next time.”

If the facts that he devours three of them is any proof, I think he quite likes them (…not scones, but they’re somehow tasty).

“Those were fucking good, I haven’t eaten them in a lifetime.” He mumbles, closing his eyes, head falling against the headboard of the bed.

I place a kiss on his collarbone, “I wanted to do something special for your birthday, but as we’re not home I couldn’t organize anything extraordinary, so I tried to surprise you with little things.”

“ _You_ are extraordinary.” He says, pulling me closer. “Thank you, love.”

“Well, yeah, remember that when I tell you that if you still want to have sex, you better hurry up because Niall and Dev will be here in like an hour.”

“You are fucking kidding me.” He sighs, “Can’t we just stay naked and alone all day?”

“No, we can’t. We have dinner at your parent’s house tonight and we’re going to Niall’s football match after lunch, so yeah. No naked activities planned for the birthday boy.” I remind him, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone.

“We’re going to the stadium?” He asks, trying to hide his excitement but failing miserably.

“Yes, the match is at 2 pm, we have to be there at lunch, because Niall has to be on the pitch way earlier… I said that you probably wouldn’t like to eat burgers as your birthdays’ lunch, but Dev said you wouldn’t mind and I trusted him on that – by the look on your face at the world burgers, I can tell you’re not as posh as I thought.” I laugh and he pouts.

Baz Pitch. Pouting.

My heart can’t take it.

He sighs when I kiss his neck, “Then a quickie it is, but I expect the best birthday sex ever tonight.”

“Deal.” I laugh, before sucking a mark on his chest.

If we arrive at the meeting with our hair still wet after the shower ( _best shower ever_ ) we took, hands enlaced together and red red red smile-y lips, nobody points it out (besides from Niall, who whistles approvingly, and Dev, who grins).

The stadium is still basically empty when we get there (probably because Niall let us sneak in from the players’ entrance), Baz is holding my hand and a large brown bag full of burgers and we step a little back as Dev and Niall kiss, before parting ways.

“Don’t be stupid on the pitch, your shoulder hasn’t fully recovered yet.” Dev says, rolling his eyes at Niall. Their arms are wrapped around each other in a tender way and I almost feel like an intruder standing here, watching them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It would be a shame if I had to take some days off again and let you take care of me. Such a shame.” Niall sighs dramatically and Dev pinches his hip, so he adds, “I’ll be careful, don’t worry, babe.”

“Good.” Dev nods, before kissing him again.

“I’ll win for you, as usual.” Niall shrugs, letting his arms fall. “Now I gotta go, before the coach comes here and kick me.” He laughs, “Happy birthday again, bro!”

And like that, he disappears in the locker room, leaving a slightly flushed Dev beside him.

“You two are disgustingly sap.” Baz snorts and Dev shoots him a killing glance.

“Said him squeezing Simon’s hand.” He rolls his eyes, “Let’s go, I’m starving, our seats are over there.”

If seeing Baz after the gala playing football has been fantastic, seeing him with Niall’s team’s scarf wrapped around his neck, eating burgers on his 26th birthday, screaming and shouting with the rest of the crowd whenever something happens on the pitch, is the best.

Baz-obsessed-football-fan is now on my list of favourite Baz.

When Niall scores a goal, he turns triumphantly at us, the biggest smile ever on his lips as he looks at Dev (who’s screaming from the top of his lungs, very un-Dev-like-y). It lasts just a second, before his team drown him in a hug, but it’s enough to show just how much these two love each other.

-

The dinner with Baz’s family is somehow good; Daphne is delightful as always, the twins are amazing and Malcolm hasn’t killed anyone yet. I’m sitting between Mordelia and Baz, in front of us Niall and Dev, one twin on each side of them.

We made just a quick stop at home after leaving the stadium to change our clothes because as the posh cousins said “We can’t go to dinner dressed like this” (Niall and I agreed without even laughing because they were quite scary with those matching cocked eyebrows pointed at us), so now we’re all wearing suits and ties.

Surprisingly enough, nobody (Malcolm) doesn’t talk about work or about our little revolution, even if I’m pretty sure even the twins know, if their smirks when they first saw me were any proof.

Baz’s house is… a lot. Victorian style. Probably bigger than any house I’ve ever seen. There is so many art in all the rooms and if we ever come by again, I’ll ask Baz to show me all the paintings and statues, because there are some that looks really _important_ (it’s annoying how I wouldn’t even be surprised if they owned any major artist’s work of art).

The conversation is carried on mostly by Daphne and Mordelia, who talks about everything but what could make Baz and his father argue, for which I’m thankful for, as I want Baz to have the happiest birthday ever; they are amazing.

After dinner – and the biggest birthday cake I’ve ever seen – Malcolm asks Baz to talk to him in private and they disappear in the hallway, after Baz kisses the top of my head (making the twins giggle wickedly).

I help Daphne with the dishes and she smiles sweetly at me.

“Baz is very lucky to have you.” She says, after a while, drying the plates with a towel.

“Oh, I’m the lucky one.” I shrug, because it’s true. It couldn’t be truer.

“Could you try and bring him home -here- sometimes? He says he doesn’t want to, but I think it’d do him good. He needs to see his family from time to time, even if he doesn’t realize it now.” She tilts her head, then, “Please.”

“I’ll try.” I tell her honestly and she squeezes my shoulder. “Maybe you could come to New York, too. Meet our friends.”

“Thank you, Simon. For everything. You gave all of us the best gift: a happy Baz; and that’s the most beautiful thing.”

I don’t really know what to say, so I just smile at her, speechless.

Mordelia, Niall, Dev and I sink in the couches in the library, waiting for Baz. They are – as always – amazing, it’s so easy being happy around them.

“So, did Baz like the painting?” Niall asks me, his head on Dev’s shoulder.

“He did, and for the millionth time, you can’t see it.” I laugh when he snorts.

“Not fair, bro. I was the painting guardian, I deserve it!”

“It’s for Baz’s eyes only.” I tell him, grinning.

“What’s for my eyes only?” Baz asks, appearing in the library.

“Simon’s annoying ass.” Niall says, before I can reply.

Baz laughs, “Oh, absolutely. Mine.” He sits next to me, enlacing our fingers. I smile at him, looking for anything bad on his face after talking with his father, but there’s nothing.

He notices me staring at him, so he leans in and says “Later.”, before kissing my cheek.

But later we don’t really talk about it, because as soon as Fiona’s flat’s door closes behind us, our mouths collide together, as well as every inch of our bodies.

BAZ

Best birthday sex ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I know it's been a week since last chapter and I'm sorry for that, but I haven't been in a very good place mentally lately, so I've been busy reading and I didn't have much time for writing. Reading, yes, because that's how I heal my wounds.   
> It's the 12nd day 2021 and I've read 10 books already this year, because I'm hopeless.   
> This is basically a shout out to TJ Klune's books, as they were all books written by him. Read his books especially if you love Found Families. And all sort of queer characters.   
> If you haven't yet, go read the Green Creek series by TJ Klune. It's one of the best series I've ever read. I cried my eyes out, but oh, how I laughed, too.
> 
> With that being said, I'm not sure when I'll upload the next chapter, but probably the day after tomorrow!  
> I started developing the plot of the DeNiall fic and let me tell you - I can't wait! 
> 
> I hope you are all okay!   
> Take care x


	45. epilogue

**24 th August 2021**

**Baz’s Room, 9 am**

BAZ

It’s on the New York Times _: Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch ready to rule his Company, Retirement Gala in honour of Malcolm Grimm._

“Have you read that?” Simon says, shaking my arm with excitement, “It says, ‘the youngest openly queer CEO of History’, can you believe that? You’ve made it! You’ve made _History!”_

My cheeks hurt from how much I’m smiling, “ _We’ve_ made History, love. You’re in this as much as I am.” I tell him and he turns to look at him, the newspaper suddenly forgotten on the sheets.

“I just… I didn’t do much but hold your hand, really. Take more credit for how far you’ve come.” He says, and his eyes are so bright and red that I think he might cry: for happiness or emotion, I can’t tell.

It’s been six months since London and there have been many bumps in the road, but in the end it’s all been worth it. After my meeting with the stakeholders, the day after my birthday, I wasn’t so sure that we’ve really managed to convince them that I was born for that, but even during those long weeks of uncertainty, Simon has never left my side. Not once. He’s kept telling me just how much he was proud of me, how happy he was to be with me regardless of what was happening and he kissed it better every time I felt like giving up.

I cup his cheeks with my hands, because I need to lock our eyes together, I need him to know that this is the biggest truth I’ve ever said, “You’ve made all the difference in the world, Simon. You must know that. I wouldn’t be where I am without you.”

And I really, really wouldn’t be. I would’ve given up months ago. To be fair, I probably wouldn’t even have had the courage to start this revolution.

I feel so in love that I need to tell him, “You’re the love of my life, Simon Snow.”

And now he’s crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, trailing lines between his freckles, linking his moles in unbreakable constellations. But oh, how he’s smiling. It’s his smile just for me, but so much bigger. Bigger than I’ve ever seen.

He kisses frenetically my face, “I love you,” my cheeks, my nose, “God, I love you so much, Baz.” my eyelids, my forehead, but he’s barely touching me with his lips, because he’s still smiling. “You’re the best thing ever happened to me.” I feel like he’s blessing me with his happiness.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him on me like a blanket, I rub my nose on his cheek, wiping away his cheeks, “You and me.”

“You and me.” He repeats, kissing the corner of my mouth, “There will never be anything else but you and me.” He grins then, and it’s almost as wicked as he wants it to look, because he’s got better at it (probably because he spends half of his time staring at me, so he might have studied all my grins and smirks)(it would probably be annoying if I wasn’t so gone for him), “You won’t even be able to walk by the time I let you get out of this room, you’ll just know my name. You won’t remember anything but how my lips feel on your body.”

My body understands even before I can process the words in my head, and I roll my hips, making us both moan in unison. “You’re a menace.” I whisper, right before he starts tearing me apart, one painfully slow piece at a time.

**19th September 2021**

**Fiona's Office, 10 am**

SIMON

Fiona rolls her eyes a couple of times while reading our portfolio, she even snorts once, but Penny and I manages to stay there and not run away. Well, I manage to just because Penny holds me down.

I don't even know why I'm nervous, but here I am. Hands shaking, a little sweaty. 

If I tried hard enough, I could probably hear Baz walking back and forth in his office, waiting for us to come back. He refused to come (or Fiona didn't let him, I'm not sure). 

He was nervous too, the last time I saw him, which is even more nonsense that me being nervous. 

Fiona looks at me, then at Penny, then sighs, "This will do absolutely nothing to keep that numpty's ego in check."

Penny side-eyes me, brow slightly furrowed, like she's unsure. 

"...But this is good, very good. Penelope, you use your words in a way that's very impressive and you, Snow, those photographs! Kiddos, you are both very talented, even if it costs me a great deal to admit it, so this will be the first and last time these words leave my mouth."

"Uhm, thanks? I guess." I mumble. 

"Thank you," Penny says, decisive. "Is this a yes? You'll publish it?"

And here we are, the moment we've been waiting for since the first time Baz stepped in this office: is our idea about fashion and work mixing together enough? 

Are _we_ enough? 

Fiona rolls her eyes, "October's edition. First page. I want the fourth picture, the one with the Damascus suit, on the cover. It'll be a way to inaugurate Baz's new role, even if it's probably a little too early for that..."

I'll always deny the little giggle sound that I make at that. 

"So... no more interns?" Penny asks, hopeful. 

Fiona sighs, dramatically, "No more interns. Both of you, promoted. Don't make me regret this, kids." 

As soon as the door of Fiona's office closes behind us, Penny and I hug frantically. Hugs are not really our thing, but this is too important not to celebrate.

"We've made it, Si!" She says, laughing laughing laughing. 

**30 th October 2021**

**Mrs. Boyd’s office, 3 pm**

SIMON

“So, Simon,” Mrs. Boyd - my therapist - says, writing something on her notepad, “How was your week? We haven’t seen each other in a while."

“Good,” I tell her, with a little shrug, “I haven’t painted much lately, because I’ve been busy at the work, you know. We’re about to open a new office and it’s the first very important task Baz has, so he’s quite stressed out.”

“I bet, but that sounds amazing, congrats.”

“Thank you,” I smile a little.

“What about you? Are you stressing?”

“Well, as you know, I’m not Baz’s personal assistant anymore, because it was slightly awkward now that everybody knows about us… But as the new Photography Manager, I feel like I work even more than before, especially since I report to Fiona and not to Baz. The stakeholders thought it would’ve been conflict of interests or something. Fiona is terrifying, so I do my best not to piss her off.”

“That’s probably for the best, yes.” She laughs lightly.

“It’s still stressing when Baz is freaking out, but we’re fine.”

“Have you had any more bad days?”

“No, ma’am,” I shake my head, “Not a single bad day in more than two hundred days.”

“That’s very good, Simon, I’m glad you’re finally letting yourself be happy.” She looks at me with that glint in her eyes that makes me blush a little.

I play with the silver ring on my finger, remembering that day in the Hamptons, almost a year ago. “It’s… easy. Easier. Now that I have Baz. Baz makes everything okay.”

**15 th November 2021**

**New York City, 7 pm**

SIMON

I almost got used to the flashing of cameras, even if I still find myself squeezing Baz’s hand a little too tightly when we're being photographed, because it helps me anchor myself to reality. It’s still weird, but in the end it’s all worth it, because the final destination (and the journey) is our happiness. Baz and I, happy. Together.

Baz says that the paparazzi will become less and less each day, because soon the news of us will get old and people won’t care anymore as much as they do now. God, I hope that happens fast.

“I bet there’ll be seven.” I tell Baz, while we walk along the carpet, pressed tightly together, hands intertwined.

“With the suit you’re wearing? At least twenty, love.” Baz snorts, smiling at the lady at the entrance of the building, who let us in without even asking anything. It’s a game between us, we always bet on how many magazines our photos will appear on the following day. Baz almost always wins, but it’s just because he’s more used to this world than I am.

In fact, the photos of tonight will probably appear in many more magazines than usual, because tonight is The Night. The Retirement Gala of Malcolm Grimm. From the 1st January, Baz will take after him and finally – finally – have what he worked for.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Pitch.” I tell him and the smile he gives me is blinding. He’s wearing a velvet floral suit, basically a combo of all his outfits I love the most. We’ve finally come to an agreement: he picks my outfits whenever we have to wear suits and ties and I pick his whenever I want to take that CEO-look off his face (so, yeah, leather jacket and boots, because he’s just so fucking hot in those)(one of the greatest joy of my life is that he now style is hair in a messy bun at home and he's absolutely breath-taking).

It’s not been easy, and we still argue often, but we always find our way back. That’s another of our deals: we never go to sleep angry with each other. It’s not always simple, but we know that swallowing our pride is worth it, if we get to sleep curled up in each other.

It works out just fine.

 _We_ work out just fine.

“Bro, I absolutely missed your galas whatever, these buffets are the absolute best.” Niall says, holding a plate with more food than a normal human being could eat. Truth is, both Niall and I can eat that much without problems. I could almost cry of happiness when he hands me a plate just as full as his, “Thought you could use some food, Si.”

“Ugh, I missed you guys.” I sigh, taking the plate and biting a piece of _something_ (posh food, I’m still not used to it, but it’s good).

“When you’ll be the one to organize the party, please, make two buffets, one for these two idiots and one for everyone else.” Dev snorts, shaking his head. Everyone pretends to not notice the fist-bump between Baz and him.

“Oh, yes, please. We’ll definitely need to do that.” I tell Baz.

Baz rolls his eyes, but he kisses my cheek with such fondness that my heart flutters. “You’ll never be allowed to organize anything.”

“That’s what Mordelia is here for.” Mordelia says, arriving with Sam, Matt and Elly; Shep and Penny beside them, holding hands, because apparently now this is a thing. Penny refused to tell me anything about it, but I know that it's not because she doesn't trust me, that's just how she is: she likes to keep her relationships private (that doesn't stop me from asking tons of questions and tease her all the time). "Mordelia Grimm: the best party organizer ever existed. Sounds good, I’ll need an office and everything."

"Yeah, over my dead body." Baz snorts, but he doesn't fool anyone: we all know that if Mordelia only asked, Baz would let her do anything. "Have you seen Daphne? I have her phone, she forgot it at my place yesterday."

"She's with dad, they are submerged by people right now, everyone is acting like dad is dying or something. Have you seen the article on the metropolitan? 'The king is leaving his kingdom'. Ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. 

"That makes Baz the prince, how about that." Penny says, elbowing Baz. 

"And future king." I add. We all burst out laughing (but Baz) when Niall bows. 

Dev raises his glass with a fierce pride in his eyes, "To the future king!" 

We all toast to that, because that's what family does. And, let's be honest, we make a pretty food family.

I feel my soul shatter and break and heal and love when I look at these people. _My_ people. We've come a long way to be where we are now, we've been walking together for a while, some of them are with me from the beginning, some of them I've known only for a year, but I have never felt more loved like I have when we're together. 

I feel like I've finally found the place where I belong. Where I can be myself. Where I can love and be loved without restraints. Where there is happiness. A _home_.

Maybe I've never had a family before, maybe I was born alone, but _oh_ , how things have changed. 

And I feel like I'll never be alone again.

"You okay?" Baz murmurs in my ear a while later, surrounded by the bubble of laughters of our friends. 

Baz, always Baz.

"Yeah," I nod, squeezing his hand, "I was just... Thinking. I'm happy." 

He smiles at me, like he knows exactly how I'm feeling, "Remember that when you hear my disastrous speech later, because I'll probably ruin the night and we'll have to flee the building." 

I scoff a laugh, "I've heard you practice that speech like twelve times, you'll be fine."

"Especially since you've been so lucky to have a great writer help you with it." Penny adds, from beside me. They've been working on this thing for weeks, they were quite terrifying and it was lowkey absurd to see them shouting at each other and laughing the second later in our tiny living room, but by now I'm totally used to it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you, I'll keep my part of the deal and buy that weird coffee machine for the office." Baz says, rolling his eyes. It's our turn to fist bump, because Penny and I have been dying to have that. It makes both my vanilla latte and that weird spicy coffee Penny loves. Win-win. 

I clap my hands joyfully, "No more _cold coffee_ for us, yay!"

**20th February 2022**

**_Their_ ** **flat, 5 pm**

SIMON

"No no, don't worry, don't get your lazy ass off the couch, I'm fine lifting all these boxes by myself." I tell him, sarcastically. 

"Good, because my lazy ass is very busy staring at your sexy ass. You're doing quite a show, with all those squats." He replies and I just _know_ he's grinning, even if I'm not looking at him. 

"Well, if you don't help me right now, you won't touch this ass in a lifetime." I snort, then, "Well, no. For a week. I'm mad. Very, very mad. You probably should be frightened by just how mad I am." I say, threatening him with the laser sword I just took from a box, "You know, you should just really help me, so we skip this part and move to the 'let's have sex in every room of the house' part." 

He jumps up from the couch at that, "You could've started by saying that. Boxes, okay. Then sex. From which room do we start?" He asks, looking around like he has too many ideas going on. 

"You're an asshole." I roll my eyes, but I can't keep a smile, even if I'm really trying to hide it. "You know what, you keep moving the boxes for me and I'll wait for you upstairs."

And I run away, before he can complain. I hear him shouts after me, "You don't fight fair, Snow."

He almost never calls me Snow anymore now, it's always Simon or Love. Whenever he calls me _love_ , it doesn't matter if it's the first time or the hundredth, he fills with gold one of the cracks of my heart. By now, I'm almost entirely made of gold.

He gets in our ( _our our our_ ) room after a while, carrying two big brown boxes, marked "bedroom" and "Simon is a nerd" (Penny wrote the second one, of course).

He cocks an eyebrow, "When I said you could move here, I meant _you_. Not all these things." 

"Did you? I recall you said something more like 'Please, love, come live with me, I can't stand not coming home to you every night'. Or something." I tease him, (I add the 'or something', because it's not like I repeated his words in my head three-hundred times and now I know them by heart).

His cheeks turn bright red, "Asshole." He says, rolling his eyes loudly at me. "You're not taking all this craps into our home." 

"What crap? I don't own crap."

"Like your fucking Tardis or the eighteen Harry Potter wands collection."

"Oh, you take that back! Those are treasures, not crap!" I snap back, shocked, hands on my chest. 

"You know, the box is right, you're such a nerd." He laughs, coming close and wrapping his arms around me. 

"Why do I put up with you, anyway? You haven't even seen the last season of Star Trek yet." I snort, running my fingers through his hair.

"I guess it's because you 'never wanted anything more than to wake up next to me every morning'. Or something." He smirks, echoing what I said when he asked me to live together. 

What an insufferable twat. I'm so in love that my heart can't take it.

“This is the best birthday gift ever.” He murmurs in my ear, bodies pressed together.

“What is? And it’s not your birthday yet, Mr. Pitch.” I tell him hiding my face in his neck.

“You moving here.”

Oh. “Oh,” I mumble, “I was gonna buy you a New York cap.”

“You’re a nightmare.” He laughs in my ear, hands sliding under my shirt, “But you’re still my present, so now I’m about to unwrap you.”

“Still not your birthday.” I laugh, biting his earlobe.

“So you’re not gonna do that thing you did last year? You know, with your –“ I cover his mouth with my hands, cheeks turning red.

“Shut up!” I feel his smile under the palm of my hand and I remove it quickly, replacing it with my mouth. “I guess we could start with the bedroom, what do you say?”

“Yes, but just because I can’t waste other time right now,” He grins, unbuckling my jeans, “But the next room is definitely the living room.”

“Deal,” I say, sucking a mark on his neck.

Our house.

Our home.

**29 th June 2023**

**Hamptons’ Grimm-Pitch’s house’s garden, 10 pm**

BAZ

“I can’t believe we’ve made it this far,” I tell Dev, taking a sip of champagne. “You remember when we were like twelve and thought we’d never have a relationship?”

He smirks, “In fact, we never had a _girlfriend_ , like we used to say.”

“Well, fine, you’ve got a point, but still,” I shrug, scoffing a laugh, “We’re two lucky assholes.”

“Oh, for once you’re right, Bazzie. The luckiest assholes ever.” He says, and I see his gaze searching for Niall, who’s laughing with Mordelia and Simon next to the buffet.

“When do you plan to propose? You’ve been carrying that ring in your pocket for ages.”

“Soon.” He says, with a little sigh. “I want to do it right. I always fuck things up, I need to do this right. It’s… too important.”

“Sappy.” I tell him, elbowing his side.

“Said him playing with his wedding ring.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s not wrong. I can’t stop staring at it.

“You’re probably right,” I say, taking the last sip of champagne. “I should probably go dance with my husband.”

He squeezes my shoulder, smiling widely, “Go! I’m a good bestman, I’ll take care of everything else.”

Every single scar I carry on my soul is suddenly worth it, when I offer my hand to my _husband_ and he gives me a blinding smile. He follows me on the dance floor, laughing quietly behind me.

I wrap my arms around his waist and his go around my neck, we don’t really dance, just swing around, but I’ve never been happier in my entire life.

“I thought you didn’t dance.” Simon says, teasing me.

The dance floor is crowded with our friends and family, all a little dizzy with alcohol and happiness, but the only thing I see is the beautiful man standing in my arms.

“Well, don’t step on my feet, or I’ll never dance again.” I grin, pulling him closer.

“What, you’re already regretting saying ‘I do’?” He smirks, wrapping a lock of my hair around his fingers.

“Maybe,” I shrug, “I’m already thinking about finding a lover. I was thinking about Niall, so I can piss off both you and Dev at the same time.”

“No no no, I already eyed Niall, find someone else.” He says, rolling his eyes, still smiling. “I can borrow you Penny, at least I’d be sure you wouldn’t have sex with her.”

“Yeah, sure, she’d kill me after half a day. And you know that Shep and Penny are a single package, they are attached at the hips.” I snort, “Besides, I’m kind of stuck with you, you know. I did put a ring on it.”

“Well, it was about time, Mr. Pitch.” He says, kissing the corner of my mouth. “This is probably the happiest day of my life.”

“Nah, the happiest day of my life was when an idiot almost knocked me over with the bathroom’s door, wearing the most horrendous Christmas sweater ever.”

“You know what pisses me off?” He says, “That every time I tell someone that my _husband_ is a terrible sap, nobody believes me.”

“Traitor, why would you try to ruin my reputation like that! You're a terrible _husband_.” I say, faux-shocked, “I’ll start plotting my revenge immediately.”

He hums in my ear, voice low, “Can’t wait to have you all for myself. For as beautiful as this suit is, I just really want to see you without it on.”

And that, well, that sends shivers down my spine, because it doesn’t matter how many years we’ve been together, I’ll always be weak when it comes to Simon Snow. My _husband_. God. I’ll never get tired of that word.

**24 th September 2025**

**Central Park, 5 pm**

BAZ

I laugh at the incredibly stupid pic of Dev and Niall on their honeymoon I just received. To be fair, their _second_ honeymoon, because they took a short one right after the wedding and now that the football season is over, they’ve taken another one. Two sappy assholes. My brothers.

The trees are already turning red and yellow in the park, leaves falling to the ground almost like it’s raining; I shove the phone in my pocket as soon as I spot them, on the same bench as always.

“Oh, look who it is!” Simon says shooting me a glance, with his incredibly soft voice (and even softer smile). It’s a voice he has for no one but for the tiny, tiny human in his arms. Our tiny human. The most beautiful baby girl the word as ever seen. “It’s daddy. Say hi; hi!”

Simon's hair is as bronze as the leaves on the trees; he’s more beautiful than ever. Every day I think that I can’t love him more than I do, but every day I find myself being wrong. I don’t think my love for this incredible man has a limit.

“Hey, sunshine, how was your day?” I say, leaving a kiss on the little puffy cheek of our daughter, she gives me a bright toothless smile and a little shout, “Has dad been good? Did you keep an eye on him for me?”

“Dad was very good, he also really needs to eat, because he’s starving. Also, where is _my_ kiss?”

“Your dad is so needy, Nat.” I whisper to her and she grabs my finger, squeezing tightly. And I found myself hoping she never lets me go. 

“Hey, I heard that!” Simon pouts.

“Hi, love.” I grin at him, before kissing him sweetly. “You okay?”

“Now yes,” he smiles at me, “We’ve missed you.”

I kiss the corner of his mouth once more, because I definitely missed them more, “Let’s go _home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The end!  
> This fic has been a wild ride for me and right now I'm very emotional.  
> I hope the epilogue was worth it! I did my best.
> 
> I'm already writing the DeNiall spin-off, I hope you'll read that one as well! 
> 
> A little note: their daughter is called Natasha, as Natasha Pitch. 
> 
> Thank you all, for reading till this point! I really, really appreciate your support. I hope I've managed to make at least one person happy with this fic, that's all I wanted in the first place.  
> Thanks for all the love, support and kindness you've showed for me and my story. It means the world to me!
> 
> I can't believe it's over!  
> It's the longest fic I've ever written (and it's in English, ugh), so it's a milestone for me. (I'm dumb, I know).
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> Take care x


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